


100 Soulmate Drabbles of Samsteve

by Scotland_Axel (orphan_account)



Series: 100 Samsteve Drabbles [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:17:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 49,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Scotland_Axel
Summary: A hundred different Soulmate AUs of Samsteve. That's it. All the expected ones included (timers, soulmarks, names, phrases) and new ones too! Enjoy!





	1. Timers -- Steve's POV

Not everyone was obsessed with their timers, but Steve Rogers most definitely was. He stares at it nearly every second of the day, eagerly watching the numbers count down even though he has _years_ left of waiting. 

It just amazes him that there's someone out there for him with the exact same time on their wrist, perfect and made to be loved by  _only_ him and no one else. It's what dreams are made of -- it's the height of romance, and Steve's a sucker for it all. 

He's constantly renting romance movies from Blockbuster and tearing up at the end when the main characters finally meet and there's that magical beeping sound as their timers run out for once and for all. Steve can't wait for the day that happens to him. He  _lives_ for that day, and he lives for a person he's never known. 

* * *

 

2014

Steve wakes up and stops dead in his tracks when he sees how much time's left -- 00:00:02:47:16. Today's the day, his heart freezes up in shock before stuttering into double time at the reality. He gets to meet his soulmate today, only twenty-seven years young. 

He forces himself to throw the covers back and not rush through everything. One shouldn't mess with time. It's a precious thing after all. So Steve brushes his teeth, washes his face, rubs on plenty of deodorant and spends way too much time in front of his closet for what's a simple morning run. Then again this is the first time his soulmate's going to see him. He wants to make a good impression. They'll be spending the rest of their lives together if everything goes according to plan. The thought of them ending up like some of the soulmates who don't makes Steve's throat close up so he shakes the possibility from his mind and chooses the tightest shirt he owns that doesn't cut off circulation to his arms. 

Steve shrugs into it and pulls on a pair of blue track pants, laces up his sneakers by the door before finally leaving his apartment. He jogs down his front steps onto the sidewalk and takes one last look at his timer. 00:00:01:56:09. Here goes nothing. And he breaks into a sprint. 

The moment Steve first passes the guy on the mall he doesn't think a thing of it, just throws out an "on your left" and continues on his way. All of his focus is on whoever his soulmate is. He's forming a list of things to ask them: what's their favorite color? do they want kids? do they have siblings? Even though most of his thoughts are concerning whoever's going to be his partner for the  _rest_ of his life, he's not rude.

He spots the guy he's been passing nonstop panting under a tree and doesn't bother fighting himself when he veers off the course to stand over him. 

"Need a medic?" 

The guy, who's handsome he now has the time to notice, laughs and shakes his head. The sound is warm and makes heat flood through Steve's system from his heart. He tries to ignore the feeling as the guy answers him.

"I need a new set of lungs." 

They start talking and as Steve's watching man's lips move with a little too much interest he suddenly thinks,  _I wouldn't mind having this guy for the rest of my life._   _Wait what_ _?_

He shakes himself out of his head just in time to catch the man's introduction. "Sam Wilson." 

Steve nods, "Steve Rogers," he replies and holds out his hand, his timer completely forgotten until Sam takes his hand and that blessed familiar beeping fills the air. Their eyes widen and Steve looks down at their hands, his eyes catching on the many zeroes of his timer before darting to Sam's to see the same. 00:00:00:00:00. They've timed out. 

Steve looks back up into Sam's warm brown eyes and feels his face split open with an exuberant grin. He's been waiting for this moment all his life, and here it is with one beautiful Sam Wilson. 

"You're my..."

"Soulmate." Sam supplies, grinning just as brightly. Steve gasps in surprise when he's yanked forward into Sam's arms, but he immediately lets out a moan when he's surrounded by the other man. Every inch of him from head to toe feels amazingly  _right_. Even Sam's  _smell_ is immensely pleasing to him. Steve brings his arms up and grabs two fistfuls of Sam's gray sweatshirt, pressing his nose into his soulmate's neck and shyly placing a kiss over the thrum of his pulse.

Sam laughs in his ear and Steve hums in reply, taking a step so their bodies completely align and pushing further into Sam's warmth. 

"I've waited forever for you." Sam whispers, and Steve nods in agreement. 

"And now you never want to let go, right?" 

"No one ever said it was this amazing."

Steve snorts and turns his head so their eyes meet. "Would you be able to come  _close_ to describing this?"

"Perfect." 

Some minutes pass with them steadily standing in their embrace before Sam takes a step back to rest against the tree, Steve determinedly following him even when he begins to sink to the grass. He ends up in Sam's lap, his legs wrapped around his hips, his head on his shoulder. 

Steve takes a deep breath and feels Sam do the same. 

"How long should we stay here?" He breathes.

"As long as we need to." Sam answers, and Steve doesn't mind that. He doesn't mind it at all.


	2. Soulmarks -- Sam's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I change how Sam and Steve met here. I'll be doing that a lot for various reasons. One, it gets kind of boring with just the canon meetcute even though it's perfect. Here it was just because it was funny to me.

Sam's soulmark is a falcon looking upwards with its wings spread surrounded by two white then red rings. Part of him loves it and part of him hates it, mostly because it adds a lot of stress to his life. 

Some people find the fact that there's someone else out there  _made_ for you to be very comforting, but for Sam it's more so just another cause for anxiety. Like when will he meet this person, and how, and is it possible for them  _not_ to like him? What if the universe somehow got it wrong and whoever holds the same emblem as him isn't right for him? 

Then on top of that every time he had a crush on someone with a different soulmark he felt strangely guilty, like he was cheating on someone. So for that reason Sam hasn't really had many experiences in the dating department, and he's still a fucking virgin at thirty something. God, he hopes he meets his soulmate soon. 

Sam shakes his head as he walks out of his favorite coffee shop, drink in hand. He looks up to see the white crosswalk sign so he steps onto the street when suddenly there's a burst of energy and rush of air to his right followed by a bone-chilling roar. 

 _"Look out!"_  

He's about to ask "for what?" when he's tackled and rolled across the street as some- _beast?alien?thing_ twists about into the sky above them. Sam's eyes widen he turns to see Captain America still holding him in his arms and panting.

"What the fuck was that?"

"An alien. A portal-jumping alien. Sorry about that."

Steve Rogers himself helps him up and Sam dusts off his jeans, tisking at his spilt coffee. "Damn. I didn't even take a sip."

"Yeah. Look, um." Steve glances up at the sky where Thor's blasting the thing with his hammer, "I'm kind of in the middle of something here, but I'd love to buy you another coffee sometime."

"Is it because you spilt mine or?"

"I spilt it while saving your life by the way. I think you kind of forgot that somewhere along the way. And no, I'm doing it because you're cute."

"I might be cute, but I don't really date." He holds up his wrist and soulmark, "Kind of waiting for someone."

Captain America's blue eyes widen ridiculously behind his helmet and Sam raises an eyebrow, "What? You didn't even look at the alien like that."

"I-we-I'm!" He sputters, jumping up and down before quickly tugging his glove off with his teeth and pushing his sleeve up.

"Woah." 

"Yeah!"

Sam looks down at the matching mark and smiles giddly. Steve takes his hand and yanks him into a fierce embrace, a shock of warmth and electricity going through him at the contact, his mark beginning to glow brightly on his wrist.

They part and stare at each other a few more minutes before a crash sounds high above. The alien has smashed into a building and Steve sucks on his teeth. 

"I should probably get back to it." He turns back to Sam with excitement. "You feel me, right?"

Sam nods, aware of the presence other than his own. He thinks he'd be able to track it across oceans and time itself. "Yeah. I'll find you."

"And I you." 

Steve swallows before ducking forward and placing a quick kiss to his cheek. Sam smiles as his soulmate, fucking Steve Rogers, runs back to the fight.


	3. Names -- Steve's POV

Steve wakes up on his eighteenth birthday too happy for words. It's a Saturday morning, and usually he'd sleep in, but not today — never today. He excitedly jumps out of bed, throwing his covers off and racing to stand in front of the mirror. His hand comes up to trail over the raised lettering on his chest, and even though it's backwards he can read it clear as day: Samuel Thomas Wilson. 

That's his guy, his fella for the rest of his life. 

Steve flings his bedroom door open in excitement and quickly bounds down the stairs, finding his mother already sitting at the dining table, keys in hand with a mug of coffee raised to her lips.

Steve smiles at her and she jingles her keys about. 

“Let’s go to the soulmate center. I've been waiting a long time to say that.”

Steve smiled at her again, even though his mom never had a soulmate like himself, she's always been more than supportive. Most people lucky enough to have soulmates just  _ know _ that they do — it's an incredible feeling of not being entirely alone in the world, and Steve can't wait until he can revel in that very same feeling for the rest of his life.

The drive to their local center is the simultaneously the longest and shortest drive of Steve’s young life. He nervously taps his foot and fingers on his jeans the whole time and even though he can tell the act annoys his mother Steve feels if he stops he might actually explode.

The car hardly rolls to a stop before Steve’s pushing the car door open and running inside the facility. The waiting room is pretty barren and the lady behind the counter perks up as soon as Steve steps through the door. 

She leans forward with her hands folded neatly and grins brightly up at him.

“Hi, you can come right on back, it's a slow day with it being fourth of July and all.” 

Steve and his mom follow the woman back to the consultation room where a doctor awaits. He smiles at him joyfully and Steve happily returns it, bouncing up to sit on the examination table.

"So your birthday is on July 4th, huh? That's pretty fun I bet."

"Yeah, free fireworks."

"So what's your soulmate's name, kiddo?"

"Samuel Thomas Wilson." Steve answers, his hand unconsciously reaching up to feel the raised lettering beneath the fabric of his shirt.

The doctor turns around to enter the name into the worldwide soulmate system and Steve excitedly bites his lip to keep from squealing his joy.

"So? Where is he?"

"You're in luck, he's in Harlem." The address prints out from a slot in the computer and the man rips it out neatly, handing it to Steve who immediately raises it close to his face to scrutinize it. 

"Thanks, doc." 

"No problem -- happy birthday, kid."

Steve nods, running out the center to let his mom pay for the session which shouldn't be much after all. 

She meets him in the car after a few minutes and returns his smile. "So this where we headin'?" She asks, taking the slip of paper from him and punching it into the GPS on their dashboard. 

Steve taps his foot the whole ride there, this trip somehow more nerve racking then the ride to the center had been. When they pull up outside a nice brownstone apartment Steve gives his mother a kiss of thanks before hopping out the car. She rolls the window down and he sticks his head back in. 

"Don't wait up, okay? I'll call you."

"Have fun. Don't get pregnant -- use protection."

Steve scrunches up his nose and shakes his head at her, "You're weird, man. Bye, mom."

He doesn't watch her car pull away before bounding up the front steps and ringing the doorbell. There's a shout of "coming!" before the door is opened and behind the screen is a black teen a little shorter than him standing in nothing but boxers. 

Steve feels his ears burn at the brown muscles of the kid's stomach and swallows nervously. 

"What's up?" He asks, looking Steve up and down interestedly if not a little confused.

"I'm looking for Samuel Thomas Wilson."

The guy raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of the tea Steve hadn't noticed in his hand. "You've found him. Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, I'm Steve Rogers -- your soulmate."

Sam almost drops his tea and shakes his head in disbelief. "No way. Prove it."

Steve unashamedly rolls his t-shirt up to reveal the name printed across his chest, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

He watches Sam's face fall and he just takes a long draw of his tea before pushing the screen door open and pulling Steve into a hug. He stiffens in surprise at first before lifting his arms up to hold Sam back just as hard, resting his chin on top of Sam's head.

"I'm only seventeen, dude. I haven't gotten mine yet. This means your birthday is on the fourth of July, right?"

"Yeah." Steve answers, looking down at him when Sam pulls back enough. His warm brown eyes dart down to his lips and Steve licks them self consciously, feeling want curl dangerously in his gut. 

"Can we kiss?"

"Hell yeah, I'd love to." Steve breathes, tilting Sam's head up with a hand on his chin and closing his eyes before leaning down to softly connect their lips. His breath hitches in his throat at the contact and sparks skitter across his skin in answer. 

The kiss is slow and curious, Sam not coming on too strong and Steve holding himself back in order not to devour him completely. 

Sam breaks apart with a moan and Steve feels himself yearn in answer. "You wanna come inside?" He breathes, his breath hot against Steve's skin.  


"Mmhm."

Sam backs away and opens the door for him, shifting back to the side so Steve can squeeze past him.

"My mom's not home so we have the place to ourselves. She'd love to meet you though. You'll have to stay for dinner. Can you? Or..." And Sam looks down at his feet when Steve faces him. "Do you want to?"

"Of course I want to." 

Steve wants to tell him to stop looking so unsure and when his mate smiles again he feels himself relax in response. He goes back to looking over the place, which looks bigger on the inside then it did on the out. It's modest, nothing fancy or extravagant and somehow perfect in his eyes. There's a little love seat set in front of the TV in the living room and Sam walks over to sit on it, patting the cushion next to him for Steve to follow.

He does so willingly, happy the seat's small enough he can be pressed up against Sam's side. 

"You wanna watch something?"

"Yeah." 

Sam reaches for the remote and switches the television on, scrolling lazily through the listings. He asks Steve if he wants to watch anything particular but Steve says no. He knows he won't really be watching it anyway, instead opting to only stare at Sam who notices but doesn't seem to mind.

He settles on Naked and Afraid and Steve blushes shyly as he reaches out to take Sam's hand and pull it into his lap. 

Sam grins at the screen and Steve takes that to mean it's alright, squeezing the palm in his own and settling in to watch the show.

About thirty minutes go by before Steve starts getting distracted, trailing kisses along the back of Sam's hand and kneading his knuckles absentmindedly. Sam stops watching the show to look at him and Steve flushes at being caught. 

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just admiring you is all." 

Sam laughs weakly and Steve smiles, gasping softly when Sam turns the TV up and swings a leg over his own to straddle him. Steve keens when his weight is settled firmly on his lap and his hands come up to hold Sam's hips. 

He angles his head up and rests it against the couch back as Sam leans down, taking his lips again in a kiss hungrier than before. Steve groans and keeps up easily, finally letting his own lust show as he parts his lips for Sam's tongue and jerks his hips up uncontrollably. Sam barely lets him pull away to apologize, but just shakes his head in response, diving back in to kiss him breathless. 

Steve sighs as their tongues tangle together, licking eagerly into the cavern of Sam's mouth as their arousals rub together. 

"When does your mom get home?"

"Around five. We have all the time in the world."

Steve groans and tightens his arms around Sam's waist. "I like the sound of that."


	4. First Words -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a meet cute, but it is cute. There's really no way to do this one without writing the canon meet cute of Sam and Steve, so I changed the timeline to after the first avengers movie when the team is eating shawarma. Enjoy!

Nat looks up from her plate to see Steve once again staring longingly at the words encircling his wrist, trailing his gloved fingers over them, his entire plate untouched. She sighs and kicks him under the table, and his blue eyes look up at her, clearly startled. He blushes beneath the soot and grime on his face at being caught and she smirks. 

She knows he likes them at least -- one can't help growing close after saving the world together, but they're nothing compared to Steve's soulmate Sam, who he met only a few weeks ago but has seemingly loved for a thousand years. It doesn't bother her -- why would it?

Tony notices the look they're giving each other across the table and clears his throat. 

Nodding towards Steve's untouched plate he asks, "What's up, Cap? Not hungry?"

Steve laughs and shakes his head. "Starving actually."

Thor smiles and laughs boisterously, making Steve look up at him, "I see, he wishes to dine with his mate of souls, is it? Could we have a to-go box, please?" The god calls, raising his hand and making a circling motion with his pointer finger.

Steve shakes his head with a rather chastised look. "No, no, I don't want to bail on you guys. We just saved the world together."

"Exactly." Bruce huffs, leaning forward and continuing with sincerity, "I kind of think something like that is enough to hold us together. Go home to Sam. Share your shawarma with him. Tell him we said hi."

Thor hands Steve his styrofoam container and Nat smiles as Steve nods gratefully and begins shoveling his plate into it. 

She can't deny how happy he looks when he stands up with the plate in hand, nodding all at them in turn before grabbing his shield and walking out the doors.

* * *

 

Beatrice, the complex's well-known raging insomniac buzzes him in, and takes her thanks in the form of a meatball before ducking back into her apartment. Steve walks to Sam's door and checks the time -- 11:43 -- before raising his fist to knock. 

Sounds of stumbling come through the door before it's creaked open and Sam's peering up at him blearily. Steve flashes his teeth in a grimace at having woken him but Sam smiles brightly as if he hasn't, unbolting the door and greeting him with a hug. 

Steve stiffens immediately-- a few weeks hasn't been enough for him to get used to all the affection Sam gives him, or how every touch makes his heart thump wildly and his palms flare with heat. But he smiles in the welcomed embrace and slides his arm down to rest beneath Sam's ass, easily lifting him up with one hand and walking him back into the apartment. 

Sam laughs as he kicks the door shut and Steve carries him all the way to the bedroom before laying him down. He places his box of shawarma next to him. 

Steve starts to undress from his costume and Sam scowls at him from the bed, shaking his head in clear disapproval. That's not usually the response he gets when he starts undressing.

"What?" He asks, a little scared.

"They made you save the world in  _that_ _?"_  

Steve laughs and tisks to himself, "Yeah." 

"That's some grade A bullshit, Steve, and you shouldn't settle for it especially if you're  _saving the world_ and not dancing for a bunch of troops."

"Thanks, Sam." He replies, touched that the man's so mad on his behalf, touched that anyone can be mad on  _Captain America's_ behalf. 

Steve sits on the edge of the bed to tug his boots off and slips the rest of the costume off with it, refusing to call it anymore than what it is -- a costume. When he's done he tosses it uncaringly on a chair in the corner and goes to the set of drawers Sam cleared out for him some time ago. 

As he's rifling through the contents to pick a new pair of boxers and a t-shirt he hears the box of food opening and Sam's replying hum of approval. 

"Shawarma, huh? Who's idea was that?"

"Tony's."

"Man, did you eat  _anything_?" Sam asks, looking at the full plate with a raised eyebrow.

"No." Steve answers shyly, coming to crawl up next to him on the bed, "I wanted to eat with you."

Sam smiles at him and leans forward to kiss his cheek. "That's sweet."

He leans away to open up his nightstand and pulls out a fork. Steve raises an eyebrow at him and Sam's already a bite in before he realizes what he's just done might be a little weird.

"Okay, don't judge me like that -- everyone eats in bed sometimes."

"The first night I came over you wouldn't let me eat an oreo in the bedroom."

"I said  _sometimes_ , Steve." 

He just shakes his head, happy to watch Sam dig in and happily accepting all the bites offered to him. Steve's eyes keep straying to the words wrapped around Sam's wrist and he leans forward teasingly to whisper them into his ear.

"On your left."

"Yeah, big guy, I know. It's like you're trolling me for the rest of my life now."

Steve ducks in to kiss him and laughs giddily. "I know. I'm very lucky."


	5. Color Born from Monotone -- Sam's POV

Despite not being able to see color Sam always asks his mom what color his clothes are, after he learned what color his skin was, or his eyes, or his hair. She always shakes her head when she asks him. 

“Why match when no one else but your teachers are going to be able to tell?”

“I just want to, okay? Now are these shoes red or what?”

Soon he labels things to know for sure, and by the time he’s in high school Sam doesn’t really have to ask his mom for anything, which they  _ both  _ enjoy and appreciate to an immense degree. 

Sam’s in the middle of his English class — the first class of the day — when the front door unlocks and their assistant principal steps in with a new student trailing in behind him. He’s a scrawny guy, but just an inch taller than their principal and rather lanky. Sam thinks he’s kind of cute though with his head of light fluffy hair and light eyes framed by circular, wire-rimmed glasses.

Principal Jenkson waves a hand to him, “This is our new student from-” He turns to him uncaringly, “where are you from?”

“Ireland.” He answers, his accent strange but refreshing. 

“There you go, Ireland. His name is Steven Rogers. Show him a happy welcome.” 

Then his radio beeps from his hip and Jenkson raises it to answer as he walks out the room, closing the door with a bang that makes poor Steven jump in his place. 

Mrs. Kalor smiles welcomingly at him and nods back to where Sam is in the corner desk. 

“There’s a free desk right next to Sam back there, our best student. You should be in good hands.” 

Steven nods, his cheeks a pinched pink before he says, “I go by Steve as well.” 

And with that he quickly makes his way to Sam’s left in a few easy strides with his long legs. He sits down in the desk next to him and puts his books in the basket beneath him before turning to Sam and stopping short.

Sam sees Steve's eyes widen and he wonders if there's anything on his face, watching as Steve's blush starts to darken and creep down the collar of shirt before he starts stuttering out a hello.

"H-hi. You must be Sam, right?"

"Yeah. Nice to meet you." And Sam casually sticks out his hand, grinning as Steve stretches out his own to meet it. 

The moment their skin touches Sam has to gasp for air like a fish out of water and he's thrown suddenly into a world vibrant with life and color. When he looks up from their hands, suddenly able to see the brown of his own flesh and the tan pinkness of Steve's, he sees the new guy is just as shocked, his eyes wide and revealing themselves to be a bright blue. 

"You're..." He whispers, his voice trailing off in awe as he stares back at Sam and continues holding on tightly to his hand as if scared the color will vanish as soon as they part.

"Yeah. We're soulmates."

That catches the attention of Mrs. Kalor and she whips around to look at them from the front of the class. She regards them over her red cat eyes and comes forward with an excited grin teetering on manic.

"You can see color? What color are my eyes, Samuel?"

"Green."

"Well, I'll be darned. This is usually a day the two of you would get out of school. But it is Steven's first day." She says, pouting at him sadly.

He turns to her, his hand squeezing Sam's dangerously as he pleads, "Please, please give us the day together. My mom's always told stories about this day, and the same policy goes in Ireland. Please, I promise I'll make up for any work I miss, but a day like this shouldn't be spent inside of all places."

Steve turns to smile shyly at Sam, giving his fingers another heart-fluttering squeeze, "Not with what all we can see now."

"Oh, okay. But if anyone asks you ditched." Kalor jokes nodding her head for them to pack up and leave.

Sam grabs his bag and takes Steve's books for him, easily shifting them to one arm to offer his other hand to Steve once again. 

The boy is tall and bookish-looking, very nerdy despite having the classic blue eyes and blonde hair so many admire and equate with instant popularity. Sam really likes it on him though, and he wears it well. 

As soon as they're outside the school and heading towards the bus stop the two of them have a good laugh at how tacky Steve is.

His sweatshirt is green and he's wearing an orange dress shirt beneath it with acid-washed jeans and bright blue sneakers. He gawks at how well Sam is dressed though, not a color out of place.

"How'd you pull that off?"

"I asked my mom what everything in my closet was and labeled them. I like to match even if no one can tell." He explains, grinning when Steve nods in understanding.

They make it to the bus stop and sit down on the bench together without a space of breath between them. Sam's busy watching the road but he looks back to his new soulmate when Steve moves their hands, and he blushes as Steve raises his hand to brush the back of it against the pallet of his lips. He keeps looking at the brown skin there as if in awe, brushing his thumb over it and giving it one last kiss before dropping back to his lap to wrap his other hand around it.

Steve's not even aware of being watched and he looks up to Sam's gaze with mild surprise and a nervous laugh. Steve pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.

"Sorry. You're just...you're very pretty, Sam." 

"Not handsome?"

"No, you're all those things -- handsome, pretty, beautiful, gorgeous even -- but I think for the most part you're pretty." 

"Thanks. For you I'd use lovely."   


Steve blushes hard and before Sam can blink or have a clue of what's to come he has an armful of a nerd and a mouth is pressed fiercely to his own. He doesn't have a chance to enjoy it and Sam blinks in surprise when Steve jerks back as fast as he leaned in.

His other hand grazes his lips and his brow is pulled down into a scowl. "I'm sorry. That was too fast. I didn't mean to do that -- I should've asked, my mom raised me better than that, I swear."

"It's not too fast. It's fine."

"Really?" 

"Yeah. We can even try again some time."

"Can some time be now?" 

Sam laughs, but Steve doesn't so much as crack a smile -- he's dead serious. "I'm very eager to kiss you, Samuel. You should know that." 

Sighing, Sam scoots to cover the distance Steve created when he practically lunged away from him, and gives Steve an experimental peck on the cheek. When he leans in again he places it on his jaw, mindfully watching Steve's reaction as his breath hitches and his long eyelashes flutter against flushed cheeks. Sam raises his free hand to tilt Steve his way by his chin and their eyes meet once more before Sam closes his and presses their lips together purposefully. 

He can feel Steve gasp in his chest, and Sam takes the opportunity to lick into the heat he offers, feeling Steve's hands move to hold onto his hips. Steve's lips are slightly chapped but no less soft and addicting. 

Sam has to pull away after a minute or so for air, but he rests his head against Steve's shoulder and breathes against him. Steve's long arms wind around him like an octopus and Sam giggles at the thought as he's pulled in.

"I like that quite a lot." Steve whispers, nudging his head against Sam's lovingly.

Sam giggles again and Steve stiffens. "You did too right? It was good for you wasn't it? I can get better if it not -- I'll practice!"

"Steve. It was fine. It was great. I loved it. You gotta loosen up some, man."

Steve sighs and Sam feels the tension go out of his body again. "Sorry. It's hard to do that when you meet someone who holds the key to  _everything_."

Sam opens his mouth just as the metro arrives, and as the brakes squeal to a stop he's glad for the interruption, because he's not sure how he could ever respond to that.

Steve stands up, holding Sam so close he's basically forced to lean all his weight on him which Steve seems happy to bear. They walk onto the bus and Sam digs in his wallet for a bus token.

"Aren't you two supposed to be in school?"

Steve brightens and squeezes Sam even tighter against his side. "We got out for finding each other today. We're soulmates, him and I."

"Oh." He raises a hand shakes it to refuse the token Sam's finally found. "On that case, this ride is on the house. Enjoy your first day of the world."

They thank him for the kindness before finding a seat together near the back.

Sam continues to lean against Steve's side and rests his head on Steve's shoulder, more so the side of it because of their height difference. Steve presses a kiss to the crown of his head in answer and Sam flushes with love as their bus pulls off, ready to show them the world in all its true beauty.


	6. Soulmates Give You Wings -- Sam/Steve POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i already wrote this soulmate au twice and i don't feel like doing it a third time, so here's two shots of this one from my old drabble series. one from each of their p.o.v.s

Sam

One of the sole reasons Sam runs at the ass crack of dawn is so he can be alone, or at least feel alone in the big wide world. This morning however he's being trailed by an obnoxiously handsome man who keeps spouting the same crack, "On your left." He briefly entertained the possibility of trying to beat this ridiculous man but dismissed it entirely after watching him run the whole monument course in an extremely short amount of time. No, outrunning this stranger would mean certain death for sure.

He simply grits his teeth and keeps running his  _normal_   _ **human**_  pace all by himself -- completely unperturbed, or at least pretending like he is. After an hour or so of the man's constant ribbing and teasing Sam makes it up in his mind to shove or trip the man the next time he comes round. You know, just for kicks and punishment for being a downright asshole. 

Sam smiles breathlessly as he hears the quick steps behind him before turning and shoving the man with all his might just as he opens his mouth. Caught off guard, the man goes flying left straight into the grass and dirt. Sam can't help himself and laughs himself silly at the blonde's incredulous and confused expression, almost as if he can't believe he actually pushed him. 

Their eyes meet, brown to blue, and slowly the stranger's eyes start to crinkle in a smile and he laughs too. "Guess I kind of deserved that one, huh?"

"I'd say so." Sam pants walking over to grin down at him. "Come on, I'll help you up at least." He says, offering his hand. 

The moment their palms meet an electric shock throbs from the contact and before Sam knows it there's a ripping sound and he's falling forward. They crash together with a couple of yelps, Sam strangely aware of two new limbs he'd never known before. His eyes travel to the other's and he sees the blue eyes are wide and looking just over his shoulder. Sam swallows nervously and turns to look at none other than two tawny wings sprouting from his back. Well damn. 

"Are you...?" Sam asks, his voice trailing off in uncertainty and downright disbelief. 

"I guess so." The man sticks a hand between them, "Steven Grant Rogers, your soulmate."

"Samuel Thomas Wilson, pleasure to meet you."

They share a couple of dopey smiles for a few silent, breathtaking moments before Sam crawls to his feet and pulls Steve up with him. Together they take in the other's wings. Steve's are a pale blue while Sam's are a tawny with a pleasant mixture of reds. Sam smiles, already smitten with Steve as a blush dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He scratches the base of hairs at the nape of his neck and avoids his eyes, switching from foot to foot.

"So, um, do you want to...get coffee together?"

"Not really, no." Sam says, laughing when Steve looks up at him in complete surprise and heartbreak. He swats the man's arm, "I'm just kidding, calm down, running man. We're meant to be together -- the hardest part is already over."

Steve nods and smiles, "I think I like you already."

* * *

 

Steve

Steve Rogers was never the guy who pictured the exact moment he would first touch his soulmate. That’s not to say it never crossed his mind, he simply didn’t plan out every detail  or let it rule his every thought. But what he does find himself constantly yearning for is flight.

Steve daydreams about the moment just after the first touch, the moment he gains two new limbs in the form of wings. He wonders what they’ll look like, what color they’ll be, how they’ll make him move, how they’ll let him  _fly_. He has a growing love for the sky and open air and has developed a sense of restlessness whenever he looks upwards. People always tell him to stop looking up, more now than ever. Just this once he probably should have listened.

He runs smack into someone else’s shoulder and Steve is surprised  _he_ isn’t the one to fall to the sidewalk. He briefly wonders if he’ll ever get used to his new size thanks to puberty, but he quickly refocuses his attention to the man he just knocked down.

Steve kneels and gathers up the scattered books, continuously muttering his apologies and avoiding the other’s disarmingly handsome face. He straightens the textbooks in his arms and holds them out to the stranger as a rather awkward olive branch.

The man responds with a smile, one that spreads across his face slow and sweet while making Steve’s heart stutter. He reaches out to take his books and their fingers brush in the process, a singular spark emitting from their fingertips and traveling through them like a shock of lightning.

Steve grits his teeth and screams, a sudden instance of pain jarring his spine and shoulder blades before the agony is gone just as soon as it came. His fingers tremble against the concrete and Steve gulps air with ragged gasps, his chest heaving.

“Oh my God.”

Steve opens his eyes at that, once again finding the handsome stranger and...wings. He looks at the shadows on his left and right, feels the slight weight on his back, the additional sensations like the breeze rustling his feathers. He tries to follow them and manages to raise his wings about an inch. Steve swallows, his mind drawing a blank just in time for the stranger to save him.

“So it looks like we’re stuck together...um, I’d love to get to know you over coffee or something but I’m actually on my way to a job interview so…”

“Can I tag along?” Steve asks, the thought of just leaving with only the man’s number drawing a pit in his stomach.

Thankfully he nods, “If you don’t mind waiting, yeah.”

They both climb to their feet and smile dopily for a few seconds before introducing themselves.

“I’m Steve, Rogers.”

“Sam Wilson, the job I’m trying to get is at a publishing company as a book editor and it starts in,” He checks his watch and winces, “five minutes so we should probably start running.”

“Copy that.”

And they take off.


	7. Superpowers Unlocked -- Steve's POV

At this moment in time Steve is 100% certain he's wasted and he still doesn't want to stop, but just as he reaches for his tumbler it's slid out of reach and he looks up accusingly at the handsome bartender that's been his friend up until this cruel betrayal of trust.

He's regarding him with a raised eyebrow, his other hand cleaning a glass idly while shaking his head at him. "I'm cutting you off, dude. Call a cab, will you?" 

Steve pouts at him and slumps against the bar counter before turning to look over his shoulder at Bucky. He's busy chatting up some chick and Steve can already tell he's not going to want to go home tonight. He whirls his head back around but the cute guy is starting to walk away. 

Steve lets out a loud whine and yelps as he lurches forward and slaps his hand down on the man's arm to keep him close, tipping his half empty glass in the process.

"Oopsey-daisy, my bad. Don't go, cute guy. Now that you've stopped my fun you have to keep me company -- chat me up, won't you? It's only the polite thing to do."

The man snorts and starts to clean up the mess he's made, tsking to himself before replying, "The only polite thing I have to do is clean this up as it's my job. And my name is Sam, not 'cute guy.'"

"Oh, we're getting somewhere! I'm Steve! Nice to meet you." He sticks out his hand clumsily and Sam stares him down uneasily for a second as he decides whether to take it or not.

For a split second Steve fears he can read his mind but then he just juts his bottom lip out again and whines from the back of his throat. 

"Come on, I won't bite you. Unless you want me to."

Sam laughs, taking his hand and not having time to gasp when Steve yanks him over the bar and crashes their lips together in a surprisingly unsloppy manner. He opens his mouth against Sam's and licks a hot stripe over his full, tempting lips before leaning back with a flirty and drunk giggle. 

His lips tingle from the contact and he feels very different -- like his whole body is alight and on fire. Steve decides not to question it, only standing up and swaying a little bit. He finally looks back up at the bartender who seems shocked and is strangely examining his hands and arms as if he's never seen them before. And Steve thought  _he_ was drunk.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Peachy. Say, why don't you take me home?" He asks, his words slurring together through his leering grin. Steve leans forward and nips at the air between them tellingly.

"I've got like thirty minutes to my shift, man, no can do."

"Oh come on!" Steve shouts, slamming his fist down on the bar and being puzzled when his fist goes clean through the wood. 

"What the fuck?" He asks, lifting his hand from the splinters and examining it curiously. 

"Oh shit. Wow. Well this is a strange way for this to happen. I guess I'm stuck with you then."

"I resent that statement on the basis I have no idea what's going on."

Sam stares at him blankly before sighing. "You don't know the whole thing about soulmates, getting your powers after a first kiss? I'm gonna assume you know this but are just too drunk to remember."

"Yeah, you're probably right. But forget that -- we're  _soulmates!_ **< 3<3<3**"

"How did you say that out loud? Anyway, guess I can take off for thirty minutes, it looks like Misty's doing fine on her own anyway, and I've been babysitting your ass for the last hour. Let's go, drunk Steve."

"Can you carry me, you should carry me."

"You're the one with super strength if anyone's carrying anybody it's going to be you, Mr. Macho."

Steve pouts but Sam lets him lean heavily on his side as they make it through the crowd and out onto the busy streets of New York at midnight. Finally Sam gives in when Steve stumbles and nearly face plants three times. 

He squeals excitedly when Sam throws his arm over his shoulders and jumps up readily in his arms. 

"I guess super strength doesn't guarantee no clumsiness." Sam gruffs, hefting Steve up some more before continuing on their way. 

Steve tries to slur a reply, but his eyelids are starting to become too heavy and he gives up to rest his head against Sam's strong and solid shoulder. He drifts off not to long after that and when he wakes up he's being propped up against a wall while Sam tries to fish for his keys. 

"Ooh, let me get 'em."

"Back pocket." Sam answers.

"Ooh, that means I get to touch your  _ass_." He giggles and Sam rolls his eyes at him as Steve leans down and pats along said ass  _way_ more than necessary. 

"Stop groping me and get the damn keys, my arms hurt."

But Sam's voice is kind of hard and Steve's face crumbles at the weight of it, his lips pulling down as heat flares behind his eyes and tears start to gather. Sam turns to look at him and sucks his teeth in surprise. 

"Steve, Steve don't, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"Don't yell at me like that, Sam. I don't like it -- are you mad at me?"

"No."

"I was just feeling what's mine."

"No, baby, I'm sorry, please stop crying. Just hurry, okay? Daddy's tired over here."

Steve sniffles but grabs the keys as told, getting the one Sam specifies and sticking it into the lock as his nose starts to run. He turns the knob and Sam walks them inside, switching the light on with his shoulder. 

Sam walks them into a bedroom and lays him down on fresh sheets that smell like Downy. Steve bounces happily and watches his soulmate walk to the bathroom where he guesses he brushes his teeth and such. When he comes back out a moment later he's only in a pair of blue checkered boxers and Steve whistles appreciatively. 

Sam tosses a pillow at him and hits him square in the face because of how drunk Steve is. He stretches out amongst the comforter and whines again.

"Come lay down with me, what are you doing?"

"Trying to find you some sweatpants are something, calm down and undress yourself."

Steve huffs, but gets to work on unlacing his boots to toe them off uncaringly to thump against the floorboards. He shoves his pants down and pulls his cardigan and sweater off, laying back against Sam's bed completely naked and now chilly.

Sam turns back around with a pair of sweatpants in hand and stops when he looks up at him. "Wha- you were commando?"

"Yeah. I went to that bar to pick up hot dudes. One night stands need to be quick you know?" He kicks his leg up to accentuate the point, "No boxers, no briefs."

"Well," He turns back to his dresser, "Do you want some underwear, cause-"

"No, I wanna rub my dick all over your personal sweatpants." He holds his hands out, opening and closing his fingers in want. "Gimme."

"I guess I'll allow it, why not? It's a nice dick after all." 

Steve laughs and thanks him, taking the sweatpants from his hand and easily slipping them on over his hips. They're unbelievably soft against his thighs and Steve rubs himself against the bed in a pleased manner. 

"You were really serious about rubbing your dick all over my sweatpants, weren't you?"

"Yes I was -- I don't joke about dick rubbage. You should know that about me first and foremost." 

Sam nods, walking over to flip the covers back and slide into bed. Steve grins manically in his excitement and wriggles back to join him, wasting no time in scooting over to plaster himself to Sam's warm side. 

He smiles and rests his head on his shoulder, lifting his hand up to trail over the mounds of Sam's abs.  _"These_ are nice." He coos, poking his finger at Sam's adorable outey and trying not to melt on the spot.

Sam shakes his head and covers his eyes with his forearm. "Man, you are so fucking weird. Are you this weird all the damn time, or only when you're drunk?"

"Why does it matter, you're stuck with me no matter what."

"True." Sam tisks, rolling over to turn the light out and going back so Steve can continue to use him as a heated pillow. 

* * *

 

The next morning Steve wakes up to being blanketed by something soft and fluffy that tickles his nose. He tries to push it away weakly but Sam groans in response and he opens his eyes to see he's being protected by a gigantic white wing emerging from Sam's very shoulder blade.

"What the fuck..?" He breathes, Sam's eyes peaking open at him blearily.

"What?"

"You. You have wings, dude."

"Oh shit, really?" Sam asks, looking over his shoulder and somehow raising the new appendages up in the process. His wingspan is very wide, and Steve knows without Sam having to stretch them out that if he did they'd fill the entire bedroom and maybe have a little more unfolding to go.

The bedside lamp is knocked over and shattered on the floor and Steve reaches out a hand to run his fingers lightly through the soft downy feathers. Sam giggles into a fullblown laugh beside him and his wing shakes his hand off.

"Stop, that tickles."

"So you can fly and I have super strength -- not too shabby if I do say so myself."

"Oh, shut up and go back to bed." Sam gruffs, pressing Steve back into the pillows with one forceful wing. A stray feather gets in his mouth and Steve laughs as he spits it out and lets Sam's wing pull him closer to the man.  

He decides it was the best night out he's ever had.


	8. Love Knows No Age -- Steve's POV

Steve’s just happy you stop aging at twenty-one, at least then he can still get raging drunk like now. He knocks his glass back and lets the vodka burn its way down his throat to swish warmly about his belly. But when he looks up with slightly blurry vision he decides to cut himself off and call it a night. He stands up and flips out a few bills from his wallet, bidding Barry the bartender goodnight before heading out on his merry way.

Steve stumbles blindly into the night, stopping at an alley when he sees four guys beating up a black man who's already on the asphalt.

“Hey, hey,” He barks, stepping into the alleyway with his hands out at the ready, “What's goin’ on here?” 

“Nothin’ that concerns you.” One of the men doing the pummeling answers, waving him away as if nothing more than a pesky fly. 

Steve shrugs with a laugh, “Well, you see my heart’s kinda tellin’ me that ain’t true.” And he lunges forward with a right hook to the nearest guy’s jaw that makes him fall into another. 

Steve ducks another punch and pulls the man up from the ground, almost forgetting the fight when he feels a vibrant shock of love run through him immediately. They lock eyes, blue to brown, but the man dives back into the fray before Steve can even greet him, though he has no idea just what he would say. It's a wild brawl, but the two of them hold their own pretty well, soon driving the offenders out of the alleyway. 

Steve pants, the night so cold he can see his breath fan out in front of him. He turns to regard the man he just fought with and finds by way of the moonlight that he's rather handsome despite the bruises forming. 

“Steve...Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

The man smirks at him dangerously in spite of his split lip, just as breathless. “Samuel Wilson. You can call me Sam.”

He wines and motions between them with a finger, “So...Are we what I think we are with whatever happened back there when I touched you.”

“If you're thinking soulmates I'm inclined to think you're right. Want to help me home? I'll have a beer ready if you want it.”

Steve nods, “I could go for a beer, why not.” 

He straightens up and offers Sam his arm who takes it silently and leans heavily against him all while leading him to his apartment.

* * *

 

They make it to a little cozy looking brownstone and Steve props Sam up against the door and watches him dig out a key before unlocking the door. They stumble into the home together and Sam leads Steve to the bedroom with what appears to be a new burst of energy at being home at last. 

Steve sits uneasily on the bed and literally twiddles his thumbs while Sam gets undressed into something more comfortable and cleans himself up in the bathroom for a few moments. When Sam sees him simply sitting there he laughs and tosses a pair of sweatpants and a white cotton tanktop. He shrugs and slips out of his own clothes to slide into the new ones Sam has happily given him. 

"So you're my soulmate, a nice perfect little white boy -- with the blonde hair and blue eyes and all. I never would've thought."

Steve doesn't know what else to say to that other than smile invitingly. Apparently that's good enough for Sam because a minute later he's sitting down at the head of the bed and pulling the covers back.

"Well, I hate to admit it to you, but I'm kind of beat. I'd like to offer you something more on our first night together. Maybe we can just cuddle or somethin'." He says, looking dearly sorry about it all to Steve's amusement and strange delight.

"Oh shit, I forgot your beer didn't I?" He asks, making to get out of the bed again. Steve holds up a hand though and shakes his head, getting up himself to tuck the man back again and pat his thigh reassuringly.

"No, it's fine. I'm not in the mood for it anymore anyway. I'll just sleep with you here."

He climbs in over Sam and scoots up to his side, but hesitates when he raises his arms. "Can I, um," He clears his throat nervously, "May I hold you?"

"Yeah. It's kind of required for cuddling, don't you know?" He teases, and Steve sucks his teeth at him but pulls him into his chest nonetheless. 

Steve nudges forward to press a kiss to the hot space that is the nape of Sam's neck and whispers goodnight against the shell of the man's ear.

* * *

 

One Year Later

* * *

 

They lean forward to blow out the candles together and Steve smiles at Sam who sits next to them. Usually the first birthday of years is shared with family and friends and made into a momentous occasion, but him and Sam decided to keep it only to themselves. They were in no mood for company on a day like this -- it was a day just for them in their opinion. 

Steve squeezes Sam's hand on the table and kisses the back of it. "Haven't had this in a while have we? I didn't even miss it."

"Really? I don't miss the event, but I miss the passing of time, y'know."

"Well I miss that too. I meant the whole cake and candle bit, the presents and all of that. I'm really happy I get to age with you though, Sam. Damn happy. Can't imagine anyone else in your place now that I've gotten to know and love you over only a year together."

"Birthdays make you sappy." Sam says, smiling and dabbing a dollop of frosting onto Steve's nose. 

He pays him back in kind by smearing it across his cheek when he kisses him hard and proper.

Then Steve sits back and waits for the years to come.


	9. Elemental Powers Unlocked -- Sam's POV

Sam's in the middle of his second class of the day and he only asks for a damn pencil when it happens. The guy next to him in the lecture hall has shocking blue eyes and  _very_ pink lips Sam tries to ignore, and he hands him a pencil that he takes in hand, brushing their fingers together with a bone-shaking shock. And then the next thing Sam knows the cute guy's hand is on fucking  _fire_ \-- real, bonafied fire engulfing the length of his hand. 

Understandably he screams and flails back, falling out of his seat and setting a whole row of desks on fire along with him for his troubles. Sam knows this is a serious milestone in his life, and now a serious situation in general but he can't help but throw his head back and laugh. 

"Oh my God, oh God, I'm so sorry. Oh my God!" The guy shouts, shaking his hand wildly and somehow putting it out as he makes his way to his feet again. He looks angrily down at it before turning his glare to Sam who has managed to get his full on guffaws into little titters of amusement. He shakes his head guiltily and holds up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry man, but that was hilarious. I'm Sam Wilson, by the way."

The guy looks hurt but takes the hand Sam offers with a nod, "Steve Rogers. We should get out of here. In part because we're soulmates now and fuck college and also because I'm sure I'm kicked out of here for starting a fire." 

They turn around to where the professor is putting out the flames on desks and students with a fire extinguisher, and nod to each other in agreement. They pick up their stuff and sneak out the room before any more heat can be brought their way. 

"So what housing are you in? I'm in Winchester."

"Dean. Let's go to yours though, it's closer." Steve nods in agreement and they walk there together in easy silence. 

Once they reach the empty dorm Steve drops himself down on his bed and pats the spot next to him for Sam to do the same and join him. He drops his bag off next to the door and follows suit, resting his hands behind his head. 

They both let out a tired sigh and smile at each other. 

"So...what's your element then?" Steve asks.

Sam shrugs and throws his hand out, raising his eyebrows when a burst of wind is released from his palm. "Well that solves that, huh?"

* * *

 

A few weeks later they've managed to get a dorm change to room together and life is going smoothly if not for the constant little fires Steve can't help but ignite. Sam knows he doesn't mean to start them -- honest to God -- but that doesn't make them any less irritating. 

Sometimes they seem completely random, sometimes they're brought forth by anger or annoyance. Steve will be doing homework he doesn't want to do or might not understand, he'll slam his fist down with a groan and bam -- there's a fire on their coffee table. 

"STEVE!" Sam shouts, making his boyfriend jump with a wince and hunch his shoulders ridiculously. He's gotten better at controlling his own powers because of all the extinguishing he has to do, so there is that. Sam shakes his head and easily puts the fire out with a flick of his wrist. 

Steve grins at him sheepishly then, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment and shrugging as he says, "Sorry. I didn't mean to -- it was another accident."

"Yeah, well I'm tired of your accidents. Always burning the damn toast -- just use a toaster, that's why it's there."

"But we don't need a toaster if I can do this!" He exclaims, snapping his finger so fire floats in the air above it. 

"Just. Don't." Sam sighs, walking over to kiss Steve placatingly on the head when he pouts at him.

"You'll get better, baby. I believe in you."

"Thanks. But right now I need you to believe I can get this term paper done."

"Yeah, that too." 


	10. Sleep At Last -- Sam's POV

Sam stopped counting the nights without sleep a long time ago. He finds it strange he ever counted them at all considering he's never truly known sleep. He guesses his body still counts the nine months of rest in his mother's womb. 

Part of him feels he shouldn't be able to feel as tired as he does since he's never closed his eyes longer than to blink. But who is he to argue against the ways of the universe? He's just some black kid from Harlem after all. 

Sam sighs and hangs his head. Usually a trip to the park is all he needs to lift his spirits, but right now it's doing nothing for him — he knows he must be in some serious funk if a bunch of frisbee catching dogs are still depressing. 

“Hey.”

A hand comes down to rest on in his shoulder and Sam raised his head at the voice to see a scrawny white kid looking down at him sympathetically. 

“You and I seen seem to be the only two here without dogs. I come to sketch them, I don’t usually sketch people, but I just sat over there and drew you for about twenty minutes. But then you started to look all sad and you're kind of less attractive that way. I’m Steve by the way, neighborhood nosy ass creep at your service.”

Sam laughs and takes the hand he's offered, and both of them fall against each other when the amount of exhaustion comes over them both. 

“Whoa.” Sam breathes, easily lifting Steve back onto his feet from where he fell against his shoulder.

“Isn't this what people say it feels like to fall in love?” He slurs, his blue eyes hazy.

“You mean when you meet your soulmate?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I think so, yeah. Well, I'm Sam. Do you want to go to your place or mine? I could use a nap right about now.”

“I live just a block from here if we can make it.” Steve says, pulling Sam up from the park bench. 

After they're both standing they make their way to Steve’s apartment, leaning heavily against each other the whole time and only stumbling a little bit along the way. 

Finally when Steve stops at a little brownstone Sam feels as if he could thank the heavens with a blood sacrifice he's so relieved. Steve helps him climb sluggishly up the steps and then pats himself down for his keys which he finds in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Steve finds the right one and slips it into the lock, turning it with a click and then falling inside with a yelp. 

Sam laughs, but helps him get off the door and pulls the key from the lock when Steve just seems to forget. He closes the door and locks it behind them before following Steve’s little form into what he can only pray and assume is the bedroom.

Steve’s already curled up on the bed, but he immediately holds a hand out for Sam when he enters. Sam smiles at him and the sweet gesture, and Steve giggles sleepily in reply and nods for him to join him already. Sam doesn't deny himself any longer and drops down onto the bed, giving in completely to the exhaustion of his bones. 

"We should probably take off our clothes." He breathes, already fighting his eyelids. 

Steve yawns, "Yes, you're probably right. Wait, are you just trying to see me naked?"

"No. I legit  _really_ think we should take off our clothes -- it's our first taste of sleep after all. Shouldn't it be perfect?" He asks. 

Steve scrunches up his nose adorably and huffs before slipping his shirt off and shimmying out of his khakis. Sam quickly follows suit and soon they're both bare in only their boxers. 

Steve scoots closer to him with a shy smile, a dusting of red over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

"Could I hold you, maybe? I don't have to, I just well-"

"Yeah, sure. You look like a little spoon, I'm happy you're not though cause I will fight  _anyone_ for the little spoon throne." Sam answers, rolling over so Steve can get his arms around him.

"Well, I  _do_ like being the little spoon too, it varies."

And Sam can feel Steve shrug against him as their legs fold together.

"Then next time I'll hold you, deal."

"I'll hold you to that." Steve whispers, his lips brushing against the skin of Sam's next. 

They whisper goodnight to each other despite it being broad daylight outside.

It's the best sleep Sam could have ever hoped for.

 


	11. Moment of Love -- Steve's POV

Steve’s always thought his words were a little weird, written down the length of his inner forearm: “ _When I was over there I’d sleep on the ground, use rocks for pillows, like a caveman.”_  He runs the pads of his fingers over the raised letters and shakes his head with a smile. They might be strange, but he can’t wait until he meets the man who says them, or woman, whatever comes his way he’s more than happy to take.

So after admittedly trolling the poor attractive man on his run Steve’s ridiculously surprised when Sam says those fateful words to him that very morning. His eyes widen and his jaw hangs unhinged. Steve has to shake his head to bring himself back and can’t help but smile a little harder as a blush creeps up his neck, cheeks, and ears.

“So you’re, um, Sam Wilson, right?”

“Yeah.”

Steve shoves his arm forward to present the words branded into his very skin. Sam’s hand comes up and he gently holds Steve’s wrist with just the tips of his fingers, still sending shock waves of warmth through Steve’s skin at the brief contact. His own eyes widen too when he reads it but then Sam’s face screws up, Steve’s heart plummeting into his stomach and his mind only thinking of rejection.

“What?”

“This is supposed to be when you realize you love someone. We just met, how could you love me already?”

Steve feels his blush redden even further and shrugs his huge shoulders noncommittally. He looks about the Washington trees for answers and just shakes his head, fiddling with the edge of his leather bound notebook and avoiding Sam’s questioning gaze.

“I don’t know, I guess…” He looks up at him bravely and holds his eyes with his own, “You’re the first person to see me as Steve Rogers, as a soldier in arms out of his element from the war and not from _literally_ being out of his time. I appreciate that greatly, how could I not love you for that?”

Sam nods and grins that beautiful smile of his, the one that already makes butterflies float free in Steve’s gut and his heart thrum a little harder.

“Well, I know you’ve already said this, but I know _damn_ well I don’t love you yet. You must say it some other time.” Sam says, showing his own wrist with the simple three words that have been haunting him all morning.

* * *

 

A few weeks later Steve finds out when that moment is a second after it happens. He’s lying in his hospital bed, the beeping of his heart monitor falling under the sweet tone of some soulful singer. He blearily opens his eyes against the harsh lights above and looks down at his hospital gown and the Marvin Gaye album playing next to him before looking over to see Sam right at his bedside.

He bites back a smile, though his lip twitches up just a hair.

“On your left.” He croaks.

And he can tell when Sam smiles back at him that it’s a look of love, and damn does it feel good to be loved by that man at all.


	12. Date of Death -- Sam's POV

Sam’s date has never ceased to give him anxiety, even though it’s years to come in the very far future. He’s done the math himself by hand, he’ll be 102 when he dies — that’s fucking  _ old _ , he’s surprised and very happy he lives a hundred years. A fucking  _ century _ ? That’s way more than he could ever hope for. He just hopes he doesn’t live longer than his soulmate. The world isn’t that nice, it happens from time to time. Even more rare and even more cruel when the world is feeling especially bitchy is when soulmates die before they meet. He would punch someone in the face over that. 

But the day Steve comes into his life is honestly one of the worst days of his life. One of his clients commits suicide for one thing — he knows you can’t save them all but it still hurts like a bitch. It feels like losing his own son or something. He thinks of all of them as his children in ways, and what’s even more messed up is that the dude was  _ older _ than him. Well, maybe he had seen some things Sam just couldn’t talk away, though no one couldn’t argue that he hadn’t tried. 

Sam’s head is hanging low on his arms in the corner of some hipster-filled cafe and he’s one second away from flipping a table and screaming he’s so pissed. He’s just gotten the call from one of the other counselors who went to check on Jeffery and found him hanging from his ceiling fan. There had been real hope for him too, at least Sam had thought so. Maybe Jeffery was just a damn good actor, maybe Sam didn’t do a damn thing for him. Sam cuts that thought off before it can go any further, knows it leads down a dark path he has no business going down.

Sam’s so deep inside his own head he doesn’t even notice the man sitting down at his table until he clears his throat and Sam looks up into kind and caring blue eyes. In the mood he’s in he feels like telling whoever it is to shove it and fuck off peacefully somewhere else, but he knows he could never say something that mean to this sweet of  a face, especially when it looks like the guy means well. 

He’s a skinny piece of work, but tall as an oak, too lean though — as if he could blow away in the breeze at any given moment. 

Sam grunts his acknowledgement and frowns when a mug of steaming hot chocolate is slid over his way. He shakes his head and moves to push it back but the guy’s hand is blocking him. 

“You look like shit, no offense. You’re still attractive, don’t get me wrong, but definitely under a mask of shit. Did you get some bad news or something?” The man asks, his voice deep and moving along with his adam’s apple. 

Sam sighs and pulls the mug closer to himself to stir the spoon that’s leaning against its porcelain side. 

“I’m a counselor, down at the V.A. and one of my clients, charges, what you will, was just found hanging from his damn ceiling fan not long ago. So yeah, I guess you can say it’s been a shit day.”

The man sucked in a breath we he said the word ‘hanging’ and his face is still mostly on the floor when Sam cares to look up at him again. He runs a hand through his messy blonde hair and blows out a breath.

“Well, fuck. Sorry about that. Must be tough, but I guess it’s a part of the job.”

“Yeah, but you pray it won’t be.” Sam sighs, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, and scowling when he starts tittering at him behind his hand.

“What?”

“You got marshmallow in your mustache.” 

He raises a hand, “Oh.” Pausing when the man leans forward and wipes it off with the pad of his finger that smells like roses and soap. 

Sam’s mouth falls open when he leans back into his seat and sucks the finger into his mouth as smooth and casual as anything — as if he had planned to do that all along. 

He falls back against his chair and the two of them regard each other will soft eyes and curled lips. 

“So it’s like that, huh?”

“Oh, it’s  _ exactly  _ like that. I’m sorry you had such a shitty day though, that sucks.”

“Are you hoping to make it better?”

A blush rides high on his cheeks, bringing out the few freckles scattered about the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. He shifts a bit in his chair and sits up straighter.

“I’m not  _ opposed _ to the idea if that’s what you’re getting at.”

They spend another minute smiling stupidly at each other before Sam finally clears his throat and introduces himself properly. 

"I'm Sam Wilson." 

"Steve Rogers." And the lanky blonde reaches across the table to take Sam's offered hand, and Sam doesn't bother complaining when he holds on for a beat too long. 

"What's your date, if you don't mind me asking?" He asks, looking shy and put out as he asks. 

"September 25th, 2098."

"Oh." Steve's eyes widen and he looks taken aback, looking down at his own wrist where they can both clearly see his date glowing a bright neon blue. Sam sees his own date is glowing as well and sucks his teeth in surprise. 

"Oh, wow!" Steve shouts, looking over the moon the brief second Sam's allowed to actually see him. In the next the man is surging forward and cupping his cheeks in his hands, bringing him forward and into a kiss that's all as passionate as it is eager. 

When Steve pulls back he's blushing fiercely from his ears to below the collar of his plaid shirt and he looks rather ashamed at his own impulsiveness. 

"Sorry," He laughs, shaking his head and reluctantly moving his hands back from Sam's face.

"We live a long life together." He breathes, and then sucks in a breath as if just realizing what he's said. Steve's face falls and he shakes his head quickly, "Sorry, um, you don't -- we don't  _have_ to live together. O-only if you want to! I mean, some soulmates just don't click, and some are only platonic, but I don't think we're like that. At least not on _my_ end because I have a very strong urge to fuck you, but you know -- maybe that's not mutual, and in that case-"

"Steve." Sam laughs, waving his hands for him to calm down and take a simple breath. "It's alright. I'm just as willing to give this a shot, I mean, why not? We're soulmates, even if it  _does_ somehow turn out platonic, it means we've got a best friend for life, right?"

"Yeah. I'm really hoping that's not the case, though. I mean, I want to be lovers  _and_ friends, if at all possible."

"Yes, Steve, you've made that abundantly clear -- I get it."

"Okay, good, because I've been told I'm too subtle and I don't want to make that mistake here."

"Yeah, you're about as subtle as a subway tearing through main street on a Tuesday afternoon." Sam huffs, standing up and leaving his hot chocolate on the table. 

"Are you ready to go? Maybe we can hang out at my place."

"I would love to." 

Steve smiles at him in that shy way he has and brightens when Sam offers his hand again. When the two step out onto the sidewalk of New York, Steve shudders against the cold air of October and slips their hands into the pocket of his leather jacket. 

And just like Sam's heart, they feel warm all over.


	13. The Date We Meet -- Steve's POV

Steve wakes up on the morning of his lorded, and sacred date with his heart ready to beat out of his chest. There’s a nervous energy buzzing silently under his skin and he can’t seem to move himself fast enough, or time is moving too slowly. He takes a cold shower to calm himself down, letting the cold water run over his face and drip off his chin. Steve pushes his wet mass of hair back with a sigh and braces himself against the cool tiles.

Once he gets out Steve forces himself to eat a bowl of cereal even though his gut’s in such tight knots he doesn’t think he can stomach it. When he finally steps onto the street Steve wonders how he can keep it together and not stare obsessively at every person he passes on his route. He can’t help, but doubt whatever fate always leads to soulmates meeting at last. How could he not? Doubting is about as inherently human as sin itself.

As soon as Steve steps onto the track at the Mall he starts to feel a little better at least. His feet pounding the asphalt in steady rhythms, only speeding up slowly into his fastest pace that feels most natural to him. Steve runs along for a solid forty minutes before his path is intercepted by a toddling little girl who's cooing excitedly, opening and closing her pudgy little fists. What really throws Steve for a loop however is that it seems the little girl is toddling towards  _him, **intentionally**_ **.**

Steve comes to a stop a few feet away from her to make sure that she really is approaching him after all and not someone or something else. But undoubtedly the little girl still toddles over to him with bright brown eyes and wobbly knees. She stumbles into a fall when she reaches him however and Steve bends down quickly to catch her in his arms. She smiles up at him at that, spitting her pacifier out so it dangles against her t-shirt which Steve somehow missed having a print of his own shield on it.

"Hey." He says, kind of at a loss as this beautiful little girl stares up at him like he's better than Barney and Elmo combined. He looks up and sees who he guesses is the father walk over to them. 

The man smiles at him, the same grin his daughter has along with the same warm and kind eyes. He's just as handsome as his daughter too, and Steve feels his heart speed up dangerously and flutter in his chest. His palms flare up as well and Steve's mad at himself before he realizes this could be the moment. It is the day after all. 

"Hey, sorry about her. She's a big Captain America fan. I don't even know how she can recognize you now, but," The man shrugs his shoulders and gestures to her bouncing in Steve's arms in answer. "Here you have it."

"Sam Wilson, by the way. The little one's name is Mallory."

She turns to look at him over her shoulder and giggles, her skin bright and light brown in the sunlight, her hair pulled up into two puffs of fuzzy copper hair. Steve blushes, his eyes locked with Sam's when Mallory falls forward and kisses his cheek. 

Steve stands up and takes her with him into his arms, letting her sit in the crook of his arm and side. 

"Well, I'm sure you know who I am, but uh, Steve Rogers, nice to meet you." He says, but before he goes to hold out a hand Steve runs his sweaty palms against the back of his jeans and puts himself out there. 

"So is the mother in the picture?"

"Oh, uh, no. I was actually a donor. The clinic called me when the mother fell ill, asked me if I was interested, said yes before I knew what her name or what she looked like. Blood is blood."

Steve nods, and feels himself jump up and down inside. Even if Sam  _isn't_ his soulmate, he's still open to having some good times with him. He sticks out his hand happily.

Sam shakes his head however with a smile, "My daughter just kissed you on the cheek, and I'm more of a hugger besides." He says, leaning in and wrapping his arms around the both of them. 

Steve freezes at the touch and his heart flies into his throat. He's not sure if he would react this way to any touch seeing as he hasn't had it in so long, or if it's just the effect Sam has on him. 

Soon however there's a burning warmth in his left arm and the both of them pull back to look down at their wrists. Both of their dates are glowing a white gold and Steve's heart remains firmly rooted in his throat at the revelation. 

"Oh. I didn't even look at it today, totally slipped my mind." Sam breathes, looking befuddled but pleasantly surprised. 

Mallory coos at him curiously, slipping her fingers into her mouth to suck on and making Sam bat them away before replacing them with her pacifier. She reaches out for him and Steve finds himself reluctant to let her go despite the short time he's been with her.

"I never would've thought Steve Rogers himself would be my soulmate, how about that? I gotta call Rhodes about this -- he's gonna lose his mind.  _And_ he owes me twenty bucks."

Steve grins and blushes, he likes how Sam makes it sound as if just being  _him_ is an achievement in and of itself. "You made a bet on the love of your life?" He asks, laughing to himself.

Sam bounces Mallory on his hip and grins at him. "Yeah, I knew I'd end up with a white guy, Rhodes didn't believe it. The world's funny like that, y'know?" 

Steve smiles at the two of them. "It sure is."

* * *

 

The next year goes by quicker than Steve could ever have anticipated, Sam ending up joining him in the firefight against Hydra. Most of their nights ending with them bypassing the team powwow to instead go home to Mallory who does a funny little dance every time they arrive. 

It's the early morning of their anniversary and Steve's busy working up a sweat in the kitchen when he hears Mallory's chubby little feet slapping along the hardwood floors. She wiggles her way into the kitchen and bumps insistently into his leg until he picks her up as her desire. They gave up trying to figure out how she escapes her crib months ago. 

"Hey, Mal." He whispers, looking at her from her place on the counter top which Sam would yell at him for, but he's getting breakfast in bed so, he can suck it up. 

She babbles something Steve takes to interpret as "Whatcha makin'?"

"Just a little surprise for your Dad, some chocolate chipped french toast, eggs and bacon, hashbrowns -- I'm going all in on this one."

Steve appreciates when she bobs her head understandingly. She sits quietly at Steve's side until he finishes everything, swinging her little legs but otherwise staying still. 

When the sun peaks into the window from outside Steve moves everything onto a tray he bought for this just yesterday, holding it with one hand and Mallory with the other. He walks into the bedroom where Sam's just stirring awake and smiles when his man's eyes crack open. 

"Hey." Sam breathes, grinning at them both and sitting up as Steve puts the tray over his lap. 

"Can you believe it? It's been one year already. I made this for you. Happy Anniversary." He says, leaning down to kiss Sam. Steve means for it be brief but can't help himself when he drags it out for a minute. He can't help himself at all when it comes to Sam. 

"Thank you, baby. I assume she helped?" 

"Yeah, sure. She gave me something cute to look at if that's what you mean." Steve replies, letting Mallory crawl over to Sam's side before joining her himself. 

Steve's happy to watch the two of them share the breakfast, and he has to pinch himself a few times to make sure this is actually his life.

His phone rings from its place on the nightstand and Steve answers it reluctantly just to get it to shut up. 

"Rogers." 

"Can you come in today? It's a minor mission, a small Hydra outpost." Maria Hill asks, business as usual.

Steve watches Sam feed Mallory a piece of bacon and shakes his head. "I don't think so, not today. I've got a family here."

"It's your anniversary, isn't it? I have the information right here, sorry for bothering you Steve. 

"No problem."  


There's a moment he's sure she's about to hang up, but turns out to just a pause. "You're happy aren't you, Steve?"

"More than I deserve to be, Maria." 

More than he deserves. 


	14. Numbness No Longer -- Steve's POV

Steve continues to hold the cold pack of peas to his bruised cheek despite now being in the hospital with better  _ actual  _ ice packs available. He’s sure it looks foolish and stupid, but he’s too stubborn to put it down now. 

He knows Sam works here at the local hospital, and he hopes he doesn’t get him as his nurse, because he really hates seeing that disappointed look in his eyes. If Steve could have avoided the hospital all together he would have, but it hurts even more every time he breathes in, and telling by the pain in his side it’s likely he’s broken or bruised a few ribs. 

Of course as his luck would have it when the door opens in his room none other than Sam walks in, flipping through some charts on his clipboard. Steve breathes out a curse and Sam looks up at him and does a double take before his face falls.

“Steve, baby, what the hell are you doing here? Who did this to you?”

“Just a couple of jerks at the bar. It’s not as serious as it looks, okay?” Steve asks, still unused to the way his heart crawls into his throat and beats rapidly whenever Sam is near. He’s always wanted to feel, always looked forward to the day his soulmate would gratefully wash away all the numbness all know from the day their born forth into the world. 

Now it seems all Steve can feel is lust and wild, juvenile in its innocence yet mature in its full realization — love. It’s a whirlwind, and seems at times too much to bare all on one heart, but Steve knows that’s just the part of him that is used to numbness and blank eyes, dark nights of sleep with no dreams in sight. 

That’s just another thing he’s had to get used to — now all his nights bleed out vibrantly as if they will never stop, painting illustrious pictures and stories he sometimes forgets or remembers upon waking. 

“What, were they being assholes? Could your heart of gold not contain itself for one goddamn minute to save your own skin?” Sam asks, his eyebrow raised in a clear unimpressed expression.

Steve scowls at him for making that dark guilty feeling pool in his stomach again — one of the emotions he’s  _ not _ happy to experience after meeting Sam. He scoots closer to the edge of the bed and leans forward with a whine, reaching out to grab Sam by his blue scrubs, and pull him close. But when he straightens up, and pushes his lips out for a kiss Sam tisks at him and moves away. 

Fear makes his heart spike before sadness can settle in to take its place and Steve pushes his bottom lip out for a completely different reason.

“No kissing — I’m at work.” Sam says, his face stern, but his eyes a little sad.

“Oh, come on, no play between patient and nurse, huh? What about all my fantasies?” He asks, leaning forward with his finger hooked into the top of Sam’s shirt. 

Sam’s still resisting however though he does look a little more partial, so Steve scoots closer to mouth along his collarbone just to soften the deal. He stops to look up at him through his lashes the way he knows his Samuel loves and often finds hard to resist.

“You’re a dangerous man, Steve. Even if you get your ass kicked over social justice issues.”

“Oh really?” Steve whispers, smiling as Sam leans in towards him irresistibly. “They must have changed the definition in the last year or so.”

Sam just shakes his head at him, finally accepting him when Steve arches up again with lips at the ready. Even though his lip is split and stings at even the slightest pressure, Steve sucks up the pain and finds it just as pleasurable as Sam’s lips themselves.

They pull back when someone clears their throat at the door, and Sam turns to look, but Steve just pecks him again on the side of his lips, unbothered. It’s not his job after all. 

But Steve looks to see Claire standing there after a moment and she smiles knowingly at the two of them. 

“You’re fulfilling all the stereotypes, you know. Soulmates can’t keep their hands off each other. Soulmates can’t stay apart for more than four hours.” She recites, rolling her eyes as she waltz in.

Steve snorts, locking his arms about Sam’s neck when he tries to step away. “I do that everyday Sam comes in. He works like, what? Six hour shifts? There— stereotype debunked.”

“Yeah, but today he got his ass handed to him for dinner and now look at him. I can tell he’s got two bruised ribs just from looking at him.” Sam says, accepting all the kisses Steve’s placing on his neck and cheeks even though he seems unhappy about it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this — not on your shift at least.”

“Oh, so I was just supposed to come home to your busted ass, yeah that makes it a lot better, you’re right.” Sam retorts, finally breaking out of Steve’s arms to fill out his chart on the wall. 

When he finishes Sam makes to follow Claire out the room, but Steve whines again and he turns back. 

“Can’t you stay with me until the doctor gets here?” 

“No, baby, I have other patients to tend to, and Sammy doesn’t play favorites. All the doctor’s gonna do is prescribe some painkillers and rest anyway, maybe a shot of steroids if he’s generous and you act a little more hurt than you are. See you at home, alright? Stay out of trouble.”

Longing pulls at the strings of his heart and it’s as explosive as the first moment Sam and his own skin touched, sensation and emotion pulling him into its depths with no hope for air. It’s just as consuming now, and Steve knows he has a love-hate relationship with the  _ intensity _ of his love for Sam.

“Wait, give me one more kiss before you go.” 

Sam rolls his eyes but walks quickly over to oblige, giving Steve one last kiss on the lips. Steve’s sure he means it to be brief, but grabs two fistfuls of his scrubs to keep him there for a beat or two before finally letting him go. God, does he hate to let him go. 


	15. A Thought Away -- Sam's POV

For some reason the voice in Sam’s head never seemed out of place to him. He knew it was different from his own, it even  _ sounded _ different despite being in his head, and not actually spoken. Even so, Sam grew extremely close to the voice inside his head, and when his momma told him that was actually his soulmate, even closer still. 

Sam’s only ten, idly tossing a ball to bounce off the ceiling as he lays in his bed and speaks to who he’s come to know as  _ Steve. _

_ We should meet up sometime. So I can hug you and stuff. _

__ And somehow Sam can  _ hear  _ the shyness in his voice. He raises his eyebrows, and laughs, not that Steve will be able to hear it. 

“And stuff? What stuff?”

_ I can’t say, my brother, Buck is in the room. _

“Steve, you’re  _ thinking _ , not  _ talking. _ ” Sam replies, laughing again how dumb this kid can be.

_ Well, it’s stuff other kids would say is gross, like cooties and stuff, you know? _

“Yeah, okay. Well, what school do you go to?”

_ Stan Lee Academy _

__ “Me too. I guess it’s a pretty big school — big enough for us to not have met before. Just meet me in the bathroom near Art class at the end of the day tomorrow, alright?”

_ Okay, I can’t wait. _

 

The next day Sam's anxiously pacing in the specified bathroom, experiencing way too much stress for a body of his size and age. When the door finally bangs open Sam takes a deep breath before someone exclaims,  _ “Sam!” _

His heart stops at the familiarity of it, and Sam spins around to stare at the little blonde boy looking up at him. Yes, looking  _ up  _ at him. He’s quite short, little and scrawny with big coke bottles for glasses. 

“Steve?” He asks, and the boy nods excitedly, causing his glasses to slide down the little bump on his nose. 

“Yeah.” He answers, his voice sounding just the same, and Sam feels so strange  _ hearing _ it outside of his own skull. 

Steve scruffs the toe of his sneaker against the tile, and avoids his eyes. “I guess it’s not what you imagined, huh?”

“Well I didn’t imagine you at all — didn’t want to get my hopes up for anything if I couldn’t be certain. You sound the same, and that’s all that matters to me."

Sam smiles as Steve's face lights up, and he steps forward to wrap the boy in a hug.

The years past between them, and their bond only grows stronger, the both of them happy and content knowing the other is where their life begins and ends.

It's pretty hard to forget when they're only a thought away.


	16. Dreams Are For The Living -- Steve's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know wtf that title is but I just thought it sounded pretty. And sometimes that's enough

Every night Steve sees him, not a dream is had without his presence, and Steve at first didn't know what to think. Even in nightmares he’s there, usually coming with an outstretched hand to lead him out of the darkness.

His face is kind, his skin a rich brown and smooth, his eyes only a touch darker. Steve’s heart beats wildly whenever he catches sight of him, the pulse thundering as loud as thunder in the scapes of his dreams.

This night the man has his back turned to him, standing against the horizon. There's stars out despite the sun shining high as well, and the man smiles before turning to reach a hand out and grab one on the palm of his hand. Steve feels his jaw drop, wondering how it's possible, and if so, how the star isn't burning him.

Then the man turns back, wrenches his arm back, and throws the star right at him, and as it explodes in bursts of pure light and energy along with it is a name: Sam.

Steve slowly blinks awake to stare blithely at his bedroom ceiling. Sam. That has to be the man's name, has to be. Why else would it matter?

Now, like always, Steve can't bear to think of anything else.

It's only a day or so later, and Steve’s out with Bucky doing nothing more than some driftless window shopping when he spots him in the crowd. Steve freezes on the spot as if his feet have turned to lead in his shoes, and before he can help it he's reaching out, leaning forward. 

He starts to run to him, to this Sam that means enough to invade his every dream and waking thought. Steve would call out to him, but knows the sound would be lost, can feel his throat is too tight to even make a sound.

There's a second Steve thinks he won’t make it, he won’t reach him, but the next second his hand is clapping onto the man's shoulder. 

Sam turns with a raised eyebrow before his face settles into a shocked kind of smile.

“Sam.” It's all Steve says, all he can think to say somehow, the only thing on his mind.

“Steve.”

“I see you in my dreams, every night.”

“I could say the same.”

Steve smiles harder, and Sam’s does the same. A moment later Bucky catches up to him looking a little bewildered.

“Steve, you just took off back there. What happened? Who's this guy?”

“This is Sam, the guy in my dreams.”

“Oh.”  He turns to look at him, and offers a hand, “In that case I feel like I already know you, Steve talks about you so damn much. I'm Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you.” Sam answers, but his eyes can hardly leave Steve’s face, making his cheeks flush hot up to his ears.

“Well, I see I’m interrupting... _ something. _ Text me when you’ll be back home, Steve.”

Bucky makes to walk off, but turns back. “Oh, and Steve?”

“Hm?” He hums, finding it hard to let his eyes stray from Sam.

Bucky claps him hard on the shoulder and squeezes it. “Have fun, alright? Get out of your head to enjoy this some.”

Steve smiles at him, and nods. He means to try his best, and with Sam he doesn’t believe it will be hard.

The two of them head back to Sam’s apartment which he was already making his way toward anyway when Steve found him. They find along the way that they can talk about nearly anything together, that they fit together perfectly — no bumping edges or bruised egos here. 

Steve feels so comfortable, he’d almost find it strange if he hadn’t met Sam in his dreams. When the other man takes his hand it sends a shock up his arm, and makes his palm flare hot, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind. He just holds tighter. 

A few hours later Sam’s making dinner for the two of them when they remember Bucky.

“You should probably text him you’ll be back late.” Sam says, looking back to his pot of chili to stir it.

Steve shuffles his feet nervously, and shrugs his shoulders. “I was thinking maybe I could stay the night.”

Sam looks up at that, and shakes his head, “No, I didn’t mean to make it sound as if I was forcing your hand or anything. Yeah, of course you can stay the night. Sorry if I scared you there.”

“You’re fine. You’re not sick of me already are you?” Steve asks, laughing though he’s only half joking.

Sam can easily hear the truth in it, and smirks at him. “I could have you for a lifetime, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Steve’s heart yearns at that, and he clutches at it beneath his shirt helplessly. “You can have me.” He whispers, meaning every word of it. 

And how did they get here so fast? Is it always this fast for  _ all _ soulmates? Is there no such thing as slow or gentle with this? Because Steve’s love for Sam is hitting him like a freight train. 

“You mean that?” Sam asks, his voice low, and his eyes serious.

Steve nods. Absolutely. “Every word.” 

“Once I get some food in you, I’m gonna kiss those pretty pink lips of yours. Is that alright?”

“More than.” He breathes, already itching for the taste. 

They eat together, and Sam makes good on his promise, pressing Steve’s small body into the couch, and making him moan wantonly. 

He pulls back with a smile despite Steve shaking his head. “You like that?”

Steve takes two fistfuls of Sam’s dress shirt and nods. “I like it a lot. Maybe we could do some more of it in a bed somewhere.”

“You mean business don’t you, Steve?” 

But Sam’s hands are sliding under him, so Steve guesses Sam doesn’t have much of a problem with it. He’s easily lifted up into the man’s arms, and the rest of the night is a blissful blur of love and sating. 

In the night they meet again in their dreams, and make love again without any of the mess. When Steve wakes Sam’s still there, and for some reason he feared he would disappear as if too good to last for long. 

“I still dreamt of you.” He murmurs, pulling himself over to lay his head in Sam’s lap since he’s sitting up.

“I was there.”

He hums again as Sam’s hand combs into his hair from the nape of his neck, and warmth spreads over him like a blanket. And Steve doesn’t ever want it to leave. With Sam he doesn’t think it will.


	17. An Eye for An Eye -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT AHEAD. I WARN SMUT AHEAD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONCE AGAIN, THERE IS SMUT IN THIS. NOT A LITTLE BUT A LOT. KIND OF.

One gets registered at the age of ten. It’s just a quick scan of the eye, and then it’s logged with the other irises of the world, and locked away for eight years before one returns. And finally it’s Sam’s turn to come back. 

He’s always loved his soulmate’s eye. It’s a bright blue, very pretty, stands out shockingly against his brown skin. Sometimes when he’s bored Sam will cover his other eye to peer out of that one, to see what his soulmate’s seeing. 

More often than not he’d see him staring at a TV or painting, drawing, reading — whatever. There was one rather embarrassing moment he had caught his soulmate jacking off, and Sam had never thought he’d see  _ that _ until they actually physically  _ met.  _ The strangest thing to him though, was that Steve hadn’t been looking at anything. He had simply been sitting up in his bed with his legs spread, doing it. The visual had blacked out at times, meaning Steve had closed his eyes, and despite this being a perfect opportunity for Sam to stop watching he didn’t. He was curious, so he watched to the end. So Sam guesses that’s a pretty shameful event for the both of them. 

Anyway, as he walks back into the Registering Center he did all those eight years ago, Sam pushes the incident out of his mind. They’re seen immediately, right on time for their appointment, because Mama Wilson is never late,  _ never.  _

Sam only begins to feel uneasy when he sits down in the small closed off room. He was completely immune to it before, and he wonders why he’s only experiencing it now.

“So you ready to find out who your soulmate is, Samuel?” The nurse asks, a woman who looks much too young to be out of school let alone have a job. He’s sure she’s just youthful looking though, and doesn’t bother correcting her on his name. They won’t be speaking long anyway.

“Yes, m’amm.” He answers, rubbing his hands up and down his jeans as she types in his name and two iris files pop up. 

“Okay. Well it seems your soulmate is one Steven Grant Rogers. He lives close by too, in Brooklyn.”

Sam breaks into a smile, and his mama squeezes his hand with a hearty laugh. He knows she’s just as excited for him as he is himself. 

“Here’s his information. It’s nice to give a call first some say. It can be a lot to spring on a person.”

“Oh. Yeah, right.” He says, he takes the slip of paper from her that is basically a receipt and stands up. 

Sam can’t take his eyes off the little slip of paper. 

Steven Grant Rogers  17 years old

Brooklyn, New York

Xxx-xxx-xxxx

As soon as they had paid Sam already had his phone out, quickly tapping in the numbers, and sucking in a breath as the dial tone sounded. The voice that picks up one ring before the call is missed is sleepy sounding, and a little rough.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is this Steve Rogers.”

“...Yeah, how do you know my name? And I don’t recognize this number, who is this?”

“Your soulmate actually.”

“Oh. Well, I guess it’s okay then.”

Sam climbs back into the car, and continues to talk as his mother drives them back home.

“So do you always answer a stranger’s call?”

“No, but I’m glad I did today. You know it’s eight in the morning, right? On a  _ Saturday _ . I was sleeping. Are you, um, gonna be coming over or something? Or, are you even close by?”

“I am actually. I live in Harlem. They didn’t give me your address though so it’s all up to you.”

“324 Justice Lane. My house has a red door, a garden, and a white picket fence. My mother had a vision for her second house, and she fulfilled it.”

Sam laughs. It sounds as if he couldn’t get the address out fast enough, and it’s good to know he’s just as excited. 

“Okay, well I’ll be over soon I guess. I’m looking forward to it.”   
“Me too, me too. I just gotta uh...clean up a little...or a lot.”

“See you, Steve.”

“Wait! What’s your name?”

“Oh, yeah, Sam. It’s Sam Wilson.” 

“See you too then, Sam.”   
The phone clicks, and Sam lets it fall back to his laugh while mentally cursing himself. He’s such a stupid airhead. He almost didn’t tell the guy his damn  _ name! _ What the hell is wrong with him? He just shakes his head, and decides to let it go. Not like it hasn’t already happened, and there’s anything he can do about it. 

When they pull up outside the house his mama looks sad to go, and Sam laughs while shooing her out the car.

“C’mon, Mama, you’ll meet him later. Thanks for everything, but I got it from here.”

“If you say so I guess I should believe you.”

“Then why are you still in the car?”

She huffs at him, but does finally open her car door, and walks around to give him a hug. He’s just meeting his soulmate, not stepping onto the Titanic or going off to war. If anyone should be hesitant it should be  _ him _ , right? There’s so many things that could  _ not  _ go right. 

But Sam refuses to think about them as he slides behind the wheel, and plugs Steve’s address into the GPS before following its guidance.

The house is just as Steve described it to be. The garden in front is huge, and filled to bursting with bright flowers Sam has no knowledge to name. The house itself is painted a nice light blue, the shutters white, the door red, and the picket fence as classic as they come. 

Sam has just opened the fence’s gate when the front door flies open, and a tall blonde is staring agape at him, one of his eyes blue and the other brown. His hair is wild, and he’s only wearing a long sleeved white t-shirt, and some boxers but he looks as handsome as a swimsuit model. Or maybe Sam’s predestined to think that. He doesn’t really know how the world works. He’s not gonna bother to ask either. 

“Hey.” He says, stepping onto the rock path curling through the center of their front yard toward the door. 

“Hey.” Steve replies, but the word is spoken into his neck after he’s sprinted over to him, and wrapped him in a huge hug. 

His arms are strong, and tight around him, and to make up in enthusiasm Sam locks his around Steve’s waist and lifts him up into the air a little. 

When Steve’s feet are back on the ground his cheeks are red, and his eyes are shining, his hair gleaming under the early morning sunlight.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“Glad you didn’t.” He replies, letting Steve take his hand, and lead him past the open door.

They talk about a lot of things before Steve asks a certain question.

“So did you ever, y’know, look through my eyes?”

“Yeah. I did that a lot.” 

Steve flushes further than he already was, and hunches his shoulders, pulling his arms in tight across his chest. “Well...what did you see?”

“I saw you jacking off once if that’s what you mean.”

_ “WHAT?” _ Steve shouts, hair flying as he whips his head back around to look at him. “YOU  _ SAW  _ THAT?!”

“Well, yeah, like once. But it’s my fault too, I watched until you were done, and there were plenty of times I could’ve stopped. So don’t be so mortified.”

“How could I  _ not _ be? You saw my dick before you even saw my face, what the fuck?! Goddamit!” He shouts, slamming his fist onto the counter between them. 

“Steve, it’s really not a big deal. Everyone does it.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t  _ seen  _ everyone do it.” He counters, and Sam can’t disagree with that.

“What? I’ll show you my dick if you want.”

“You didn’t just see my dick, Sam. You saw me  _ jack off _ my dick.”

Sam shrugs again. “So what, you want me to jerk off in front of you or something?”

Steve’s mouth snaps shut, and Sam didn’t think it was possible, but his face is quickly growing redder by the second.

“I-I-I don’t know. I’m not going to force you or anything. We haven’t even kissed yet.”

At that Sam just leans across, and smooches him. It’s quick, and sweet, makes him want to stay for more, but he leans back anyway to level Steve with a serious look.

“Now we have. If it will make you feel better, I’ll do it. I don’t mind.” He says.

“A-are you sure?” Steve asks, pulling the edges of his sleeves down over his knuckles anxiously.

“Yeah. Let’s go. Wait, where’s your mom?”

“Work. She doesn’t usually work on Saturdays, but got called in for something. She won’t be back in a few hours, but we shouldn’t need that long to-” Steve’s mouth seems to stop working, and he blushes harder still, furrowing his brow, and glaring down at the counter. 

Sam shakes his head, walking around to grab the boy’s hand so he can take them wherever his damn bedroom is. Steve catches on quickly, and takes him upstairs, turning left down the hall to enter the last door at the end of it. 

He turns, and locks the door as soon as they’re inside, and takes a deep breath.

“Once again, just so you know, we  _ don't  _ have to do this. I’ll see your dick eventually.”

“Maybe so, but you won’t see me jacking off, and it’s not fair. We’re doing this. But where is the question.”

“On the bed. That’s where I do-” Steve bites his lip, and Sam laughs at him. “I’m just going to stop talking at this point.”

Sam sits at the head of the bed, resting back against the pillows there when Steve answers his questioning look with a nod. Steve himself sits at the end of it with one leg folded on the bed, and the other foot resting against the bedframe. 

Sam lets his head fall back as he unbuttons his jeans, and slides the zipper of his fly down to push his boxers down, and slip his hand inside to pull his dick out. Of course it’s not hard or anything, but he hears Steve gasp in front of him, and he opens his eyes to look at him questioningly.

“You good?”

“Mmhm, yeah, keep going. I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet.” Steve rambles, nodding assuredly even though his eyes keep darting between Sam’s, and his dick.

With the light green Sam closes his eyes again with a sigh, and tightens his grip before giving himself one long luxurious pull, pushing the skin over the head. He breathes out slow, and easy as his pace continues just as slow, and patient. 

Blood starts to flow, his cock stiffening in his hand as the strokes continue. He laughs as a sudden thought occurs to him.

“What?” Steve asks, and Sam looks at him to see the blush still riding high on his cheeks, a finger between his teeth. 

“I only got to see you jerking off mid-show, and you get it all.”

“Oh. I guess I’m lucky then.” Steve answers before nodding his head at him, flicking his eyes down to Sam’s lap. “Go on. Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Sam drawls, easily moving his hand again in the same rhythm as before. With his eyes closed he can hear even easier when Steve’s breathing starts to pick up, and when he opens his eyes he can clearly see the tent in Steve’s boxers, but his hand remains firmly at his side, the other in his mouth.

“You want to get over here, don't you?” He asks, Steve’s eyes flashing back up from his hand. He seems to fight himself on it before nodding his answer. Sam jerks his head back for him to come, and Steve does, scrambling up the bed to straddle him. 

His hand is soft, and uncalloused like his own when it wraps around the girth of him. Steve moans in the back of his throat, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as his hand pumps him hard, and drags over the head. 

Sam lets out a moan, and it undoes him, making Steve surge forward to capture his lips in another kiss. It’s rough, and uncoordinated in the beginning before their mouths slot together just right, and Steve opens his mouth when Sam teases his tongue against him. Sam slides his free hand into Steve’s hair, and the boy shuffles forward to press his cock hungrily against his abdomen. 

Sam releases his hold on Steve’s mouth to shove his boxers down so his cock slaps up, a shade of angry red, and precum dribbling down from the head. Steve’s hips shudder under his hands, and a whimper leaves Steve’s mouth above him. 

It turns into a full-on keen when Sam ducks down to get the tip of him in his mouth. The hot heat of it makes Steve’s hips jerk forward with a cry, his head falling back, his mouth agape, and his eyes closed.

“Oh  _ fuck,  _ Sam.” He breathes, whining when Sam pulls off with a pop. Sam squeezes Steve’s hips, and the boy drops down to sit on his thighs. 

Sam moves his hand to encompass both of them, and Steve arches against him with an “ah!” He slowly slides his hand up and down, feeling Steve twitch, and tremble under his fingertips. Sam licks at Steve’s nipple, and finds he’s just as sensitive there when he throws his head back to moan. 

He looks up at the boy, sees his red cheeks, and pinched expression of pleasure. 

“You ever put a finger up here before?” Sam asks, rubbing his finger along the crack of Steve’s ass. 

Steve looks down at him, and shakes his head, “Mm-mm. Never did that before.”

“You wanna try?” 

“With you? Sure.” He breathes, letting Sam pull him snug against his chest so his head rests on his shoulder. 

Steve sucks in a breath when the finger goes between his cheeks, but Sam only rubs along the ring of muscle. When he does finally breach him Steve gasps, arching his back to push his ass back into his hand. 

Sam pushes his finger in completely, pausing with each knuckle until there’s no further to go. Steve’s pants are heavy, and hot against his ear, his ass wriggling in his lap as he slowly tugs on their dicks, and holds his finger there. Sam crooks it a certain way and curls it, pressing perfectly into the prostate he was looking for. 

Steve’s breath stutters, and he moans long and hard. 

“Fuck, that feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, faster, Sam. I’m so close, and I wanna come.” Steve whines, his voice sweet when desperate.

Sam speeds up his hand obediently, and just presses against the bundle of nerves in Steve’s ass. Steve whimpers, and moans, his hips undulating back between his hands in search of release.

“You gonna come, sweetheart?”

“Mm, yeah. I’m gonna come”

“You want it?”

Steve nods, pressing a kiss into his shoulder, and holding him tighter. “I want to, so bad. I want it. Give it to me, please give it to me.”

So Sam does, tugging hard, and pressing his thumb into the boy’s slit. It makes Steve arch with a cry, pushing his chest out, and his head back as his cock spurts out his end. Sam follows at the sight, and the two of them slump together in the aftermath. 

A few moments of silence pass before either speaks.

“We’re a little slutty for that, aren’t we?” Steve asks, though he seems uncaring of the fact.

“Yeah. I doubt most soulmates fuck as soon as we did. We haven’t even known each other two hours.”

“But it’s so obvious.” Steve says, propping his head up on Sam’s chest to look at him.

“What is?” Sam asks.

“That I’ll love you more than anything else.” 

Steve laughs when he shoves him. 

But he knows it’s true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how this got so long anyway. I ain't mad but...it long


	18. Vitiligo -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for cancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* Cancer, and i aint talking about the star sign.  
> Happy ending tho

When the cancer hits Steve's only thought is about whoever’s skin is mixed with his. It’s the only thing that runs through his mind as soon as his tumor is diagnosed, well,  _ tumors _ . Steve doesn’t really think about fighting it, or he doesn’t think about  _ winning  _ the fight. He thinks about whoever that person is out there who wears his skin on their body. He cries not for himself, but for that mysterious, unfortunate individual who wound up with  _ him _ as their soulmate, and now he’s pretty much doomed to pick out his own damn casket. It’s not fair, and it’s not right, but it’s life, and it’s his reality. Steve figures he has to make do. So he does.

He has to find him, her, whoever, whatever. He has to find them. He wants to hold their hand just once, maybe kiss them once too, at least look them in the eyes, and know they are perfect for each other.

So the doctors run off a piece of his skin for the other’s DNA, and they come back to him with a name. Samuel Thomas Wilson, that’s whose heart he’s going to be breaking. Steve finds Sam’s name in the phone book, gives him a call. 

“You got Sam, what’s up?” The voice answers, and Steve’s breath stills at how beautiful it sounds, how  _ perfect. _

“Um, uh...It’s Steve Rogers.”

“...Am I supposed to know who that is? Because I’m sorry, but I don’t.” The guy replies, giving an awkward little laugh Steve can’t wait to hear in person.

“I’m your soulmate, Sam.”

“Oh! Great!”

“But I got some bad news too.”

“Oh,” And the same word sounds so different, so sad, and scared. 

“I have cancer — bone cancer. It’s pretty bad.” Steve swallows as his voice goes hoarse, and his vision blurs. It’s the first time he’s actually said the words. He had never allowed himself to think about the moment he would, because he knew it would be just this bad. 

“Fuck.” The expletive is said on a sigh, and Steve has no reference to imagine what this Sam must be looking like right now.

“I know.” He says, swallowing away the lump forcing its way into his throat, “I know. But I wanted to speak to you before anything happens. If I die, I want to have met you, you know, the person I carry around with me everyday.” Steve sniffs, wiping the snot dribbling out of his nose with the back of his hand. His tears fall down the curve of his cheeks to drip off his chin, and Steve tries not to let his breath hitch where Sam can hear.

“Don’t cry if I’m not there to hold you, Steve. Where are you? I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Sam says, and Steve can already hear movement on the other line.

Steve gives the name of the hospital, and hears Sam laugh. “What?” He asks.

“You’re close, that’s all. I’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t hang up, please. I don’t care if you don’t say anything, just don’t hang up, alright?” Steve asks, his fingers going white as he holds his phone tighter. 

His mom’s asleep in a chair to his left, and he feels too alone. At the same time however Steve feels a deep relief at not having to see the dreaded sadness in his mother’s eyes. It’s such sadness that doesn’t seem manageable in a mere human being, but he knows especially now than ever that there’s more room for sadness in the human heart than anything else.

Though it only takes a few minutes for Sam to reach him Steve falls asleep in the short time provided. He comes to laying on his side, and rolls his head to a man standing rather unsurely at the end of the hospital bed. Just by looking Steve can tell he’s taller than him, handsome too. Neat facial hair, high cheekbones, soulful eyes, and that rich brown skin he’s carried around, his pale cream mixed in with it. 

Steve pulls himself up into a sitting position, and scoots over in the bed. The two of them stare at each other for a few more moments before Steve gestures to the room he’s made.

“You said not to cry if you’re not there to hold me, and with my situation I’ve got a lot of crying to do.” Steve says, laughing pitifully though he knows it’s true.

Sam for his part doesn’t, simply taking off his jacket, and laying it on an available chair back then climbing onto the hospital bed next to him. As his arm comes around him Steve notices how soft his hoodie is, how clean he smells, like soap, and cinnamon. 

Sam’s arm is a heavy weight across his shoulders that pulls him in, and Steve tucks his head against the man’s chest as he lets the lump in his throat finally build. The tears come silently at first, and then sobs follow them, his lungs choking on nothing, but the very air they need as Sam holds him tight. 

After a few minutes that Steve’s not sure add up to an hour Sam speaks.

“I think you’re crying for nothing. I think you’ll make it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No. I don’t. But you don't know if I’m wrong either.” He replies, and Steve has to agree with that at least. But he doesn’t say it. 

 

Sam endures every second with him from that day forward. Steve didn’t ask him to stay, but he’s glad he does. So he has someone else other than his mom with her sad eyes to rub his back when he throws up from chemo, to make him laugh until his stomach hurts, and he cries from something other than despair, and he finally forgets what awful shit he’s in. 

The day’s been bad, and too long for Steve’s taste. He’s been in a shitty mood all morning, and worse than that is that Sam will  _ not _ get mad at him. The man is invincible to all his snapping, and glares, and eye rolls. He doesn’t care, or maybe he cares too much to let it bother him. After all, he’s still letting Steve rest his head on his chest, Sam’s fingers rubbing over his bare scalp in a way that would make him purr if he was able. 

“You haven’t kissed me yet.” Steve says suddenly, just a thought that comes to him.

Sam’s hand pauses for the briefest of moments, “Nope. What made you think of that?” He asks instead.

Steve shrugs, turns to look at him. “Just did I guess. Can I kiss you? Would that be alright? I’ve never had that before.”

“Had what before, a  _ kiss?” _

When Steve nods Sam throws his hands up in disbelief, and shakes his head. “But your eyes are so  _ blue _ , and _ beautiful _ , and you’re so  _ pretty! _ Who wouldn’t kiss you before all this bullshit?” 

Steve laughs at his genuine confusion. He’s got to admit it’s sweet.

“Who wouldn’t kiss you even  _ with  _ all this bullshit?” Sam asks, before grabbing at Steve’s shoulders to pull him up the length of him.

He takes Steve’s chin in his hand, and looks at him for a long moment, looks at all of him with no judgement, but only appraisal. Then Steve closes his eyes, because he’s being pulled in again, and there’s lips on his. They’re soft, and gentle, slow too — just perfect. 

Steve’s released, and his eyes flutter back open to look at Sam, who’s smiling at him smugly.

“What?” He asks.

“You look so pretty, so out of it, just from a kiss.” Then his eyes grow hard, and something Steve would dare call fear flickers there before hardening again. Sam fists his hospital gown, and tugs at him once.

“You better live through this, Steve Rogers, or else I won’t get to kiss you again. And I  _ refuse _ to live in a world where that happens.”

“Don’t say something like that. Nothing’s happened — nothing’s gotten better, and nothing’s gotten worse. We’re in limbo, and there’s jack shit we can do about it.”

Steve lowers his head to Sam’s chest again to avoid the angry look he’s giving him, but somehow he can still feel it. But Sam doesn’t say anything else even though Steve wants him to refute him again. The last thing he needs is for Sam to give up on him. His heart throbs at the thought, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut. 

 

“You owe me like...twenty bucks, or your life. Yeah, you owe me your life.” Sam gloats, smiling up at the sky as they step out of the hospital together. 

Steve squints up at him, admiring the full brown Sam’s skin has returned to now that they’ve met each other. He gives Sam’s hand a strong squeeze, and feels too light on his feet.

They know it can come back. They know just because you get it once you’re not in the clear, though they wish it was that way. 

Steve heaves a sigh, and breathes in the fresh air of the city, and the outside he’s been denied of for a year. 

“Thanks for doing it with me, Sam. I mean that. And I do owe you my life. I’ll happily lay it down for you — anytime you need it.”

Sam grins down at him, “That almost sounds like vows.”

“Yeah, I should write ‘em down for later.” He replies, laughing when Sam punches him teasingly in the shoulder with his free hand. 

Steve never thought he’d make it.

But Sam did. And Steve’s content to let him say ‘I told you so’ as many times as he wants. 


	19. The Sound of Music -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One can hear music for thr first time join meeting their soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all should be proud I didn't make a Taylor swift diss at the end of this, cuz the desire was STRONG.

The first time Sam met Steve he was someone else’s guest, a new friend of Natasha’s. He didn’t think much of him at first, other than of the spare thought of how cute he was. Sam kind of thought he was handsome, and pretty at the same time. It wasn’t until he caught the guy quickly avert his eyes after clearly staring at him did Sam realize something could actually come from his observations.

All of his friends were spread out about his living room, all of their hands reaching into the few bowls of popcorn, all of their eyes pretty much on the TV which was showing trashy movies with the word ‘movie’ actually in the titles. Sam couldn’t deny the fact that they all sucked —  _ Disaster Movie, Epic Movie, Date Movie, Not Another Teen Movie,  _ and the acception of  _ Vampires Suck _ — but the flicks were so bad they somehow stumbled into the realm of being actually good. He knows that doesn’t make any sense, but that doesn’t change the fact  _ Epic Movie _ is still playing on his TV screen.

When Sam gets up for another beer he notes Steve’s on one of the pillows he put out on the floor, and the pillow next to him was empty. So it was an easy decision when he returned to simply drop down right next to Steve.

The guy turns his blue eyes on him in clear surprise, and Sam just smiles, nudging his offered bottle of beer forward in case he didn’t see it.

“T-thanks.” He says quietly, looking unsurely down at the floor as if Sam’s gaze is too much. 

“Your name’s Steve, right?”

“Yeah, and you’re Sam. Thanks for inviting all of us. It’s been a nice night so far.” Steve says, opening his beer with his teeth, and taking an eager sip.

“Any ideas on how it could be better?” Sam asks, fully aware of how flirty the question is, and how lower his voice becomes.

It seems to have an affect on Steve because he shivers, and the light of the TV shows the redness crawling up his cheeks. 

He smiles coyly, looking up at Sam from beneath his lashes. “A few, but they require an empty room.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, and grins at him, “Is that so?”

“Well, to be polite, yes. I’d hate to crawl into your lap with so many people around.” 

And Sam blesses whatever mysterious courage pushed Steve to say that, because as soon as the words are floating between them his cheeks flame brighter, and he chokes on nothing, looking down into his lap. Sam notices his knuckles turn white where they are enclosed around the bottle’s neck.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what made me say that.” Steve tips his head to the side, still looking away from him as he gives a nervous little laugh, “Actually I know very well what made me say that, but I’m sure you don’t really want any part of that.”

“What makes you think that? I just started flirting with you, and I don’t plan on stopping for a  _ very  _ long time if I can help it.”

Steve snaps his head up to look at him, his little shoulders hunched up to his ears as if bracing for some physical blow. 

“You mean that? I don’t know, I guess I’m too used to people not giving me a second glance, but you’re staring full on like you mean it. I don’t really know what to do with that.”

“From what you said earlier about the lap thing, it seems you know perfectly well what do with it.”

Steve blushes again, but smiles, ducking his head down. “I’m not even drunk enough to blame the blush on the beer.”

“Good, glad it’s all me.”

Steve grins at him before scooting closer to him, Sam feeling another shiver run through him when his arm comes around the man’s small waist to hold his hip, and brace him against his side. Only a second passes before all the tension leaves Steve’s body, and he lets his head fall to the side to rest against Sam’s shoulder. 

Sam pays attention to the movie only marginally after that, too preoccupied with the warmth of Steve next to him, how sweet he smells, and how soft his hair must be. So enamored with him, it takes a moment for Sam to realize Nat’s speaking.

“We’re gonna ship out, looks like you two lovebirds need some alone time. Glad I found you a date, Sam. Enjoy.”

She stands up, and the rest of his friends follow, all giving him a knowing look that makes him want to chuck anything near by at their faces. But he doesn’t, instead Sam just nods his thanks, and let’s them file out of his apartment so only Steve remains. 

When he turns back from the door the man’s blue eyes are trained on him, excited, but a little nervous he can tell.

“We should try it, just to see. I’d like to know heading in if this is just a night of fun or something more, cause I know what I’d like it to be. Don’t want to get my hopes up for anything.”

Sam doesn’t feel the need to add anything to that other than a smile, reaching his hand out to gently cup the nape of Steve’s neck before he leans down and in to finally touch those pouty pink lips himself. 

Steve tastes like beer, and popcorn along with an underlying sweetness that can be nothing, but him through and through. He gasps into a moan when Sam pulls him onto his lap, and when they’re forced apart for air Steve stays close, letting their breath mingle together. 

And Sam feels it as if something has shifted in his world, and existence, as if everything was muted before, and now he can truly feel life for what it was always meant to be. 

“You feel it too, right?” Steve breathes, and it’s clear how scared he is that Sam might say no.

“Yeah.”

Those pretty pink lips of his break into a smile, and Steve holds his head as he kisses him again. 

“What should we listen to first? I mean, it’s our first song — the first song we can  _ hear _ , what should it be? And there’s so many  _ genres _ , how will we ever choose?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should look up some lists or something. What do you  _ feel  _ like listening to?”

Steve pulls his lower lip, the fattest one, between his teeth, and furrows his brow as he thinks. Sam nudges forward to kiss him again on the cheek, and other than his cheeks blushing Steve doesn’t react. 

“I want to listen to something easy, y’know? Like, relaxing. They say classical music is relaxing. Can we try that?”

“It’s a little boujee seeming, but sure.” Sam replies, pulling his phone out of his pocket to search for whatever the best classical piece is while Steve laughs in his arms. 

But they end up not listening to classical music at all when “Time” by Hans Zimmer shows up as a result. So with Steve sitting in his lap, their heads resting together, the two of them hear music for the first time, waves of sounds that sweep over them mercilessly in their beauty. And when the song finally ends Steve’s eyes look a little wet, and Sam would make fun of him if his own weren’t the same way.

“That was beautiful. Are all songs like that?” He asks, his voice a whisper as if hearing anything else fully is a right crime after the experience.

“I’m sure there are some bad ones as well.” Sam replies, finally giving into the want of carding his fingers through Steve’s blonde hair which turns out to be as soft as feathers or a cloud. 

From then on “Time” by Hans Zimmer is their song, and sometimes as soon as Sam walks in the door of their now shared apartment Steve will hit a button on his computer, and the song burst forth to fill their living room. 

And even though he groans Sam’s heart will beat faster just as always when he first heard it, and he’ll sweep Steve into his arms with a smile. And they’d dance. 


	20. Groundhog Day -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forced to live the same day over until soulmate is found.

Everyday Steve wakes up thinking that today will be the day he finds them —  _ this _ is the day. So far he’s been wrong. It’s been two months living the same day over again since he turned eighteen, and though Steve’s frustration is rising he hasn’t given up yet. 

The past few repeats Steve has skipped the brain numbing conversation with his mother who doesn’t even know she’s repeating herself, and Steve answers before she finishes getting the sentence, sometimes even before she opens her mouth all the way. No, instead he’s been climbing out of his window onto the roof, tucking down the side to drop to the ground beneath. At least he’s repeating a Saturday. Other’s repeat a school day or something, though he doesn’t see the sense in continuing to go to the same place when you’re supposed to be looking for your soulmate. If you didn’t find them the first day, you’re not gonna find them the thirty-first. 

So Steve covers different parts of the city each day. And today his next territory is Harlem. Steve sets out for the bus stop, and climbs on with the same tokens he has in his pocket everyday, nods his head to the dude behind the wheel as he does everyday, takes his place in the last seat on the left as he does everyday. 

He doesn’t really see the point in trying to keep interesting — a bus is a bus no matter how he slices it. Steve sighs, and props his foot up against other seats as he leans back to watch the city pass by until they finally come to a brief stop in Harlem. 

Steve stands up, and makes his way to the front, accidentally thanking the bus driver before he tells him to have a good day. He supposes it could be mistaken as a thanks for driving the bus or something, but the confused look on the guy’s face points to him not really believing that. 

Steve shrugs as he steps onto the sidewalk, not as if the guy’s going to remember come tomorrow anyway. Then he stops himself because that sounds like he’s given up before he’s even started searching for today. He can’t help, but imagine the horror stories that have been passed through generations, horror stories of people who never find their soulmate, and instead live their life eternally in a single day. They can kill themselves all they want — tomorrow they still wake up. It’s horrifying. 

Steve shakes the thoughts away literally, and starts walking down the street. For some reason his hopes are higher for today, he can only hope that’s a good thing. 

However, after hours of walking the streets of Harlem Steve’s hope starts to wane along with his enthusiasm. He feels a lump build in his throat, and scowls hard. Well, his soulmate just isn’t in Harlem, it doesn’t mean he’ll never find them. It’s still possible. It just doesn’t feel like it right now. Steve suddenly feels so hopelessly lost he considers calling off the search for today all together, and just heading back home. 

But then a second later there’s a hand clapping hard onto his shoulder, and he’s being whirled around to face someone. 

Steve’s eyes light up at the sight of the guy — a black guy with facial hair he still can’t grow, a shaved head, and kind eyes. 

“Hey, please be who I need you to be.” He pants, out of breath. 

Steve must have been too lost in his thoughts to hear his footfalls. It takes a second to register what the man has said, but when he does Steve smirks at him.

“For you I’d be just about anything.”

The guy laughs at him, shaking his head, “No, it’s my first day repeating — I’m looking for my soulmate.”

“It’s been two months for me. All we have to do is touch to find out.”

“Shit. Now I’ve gotten my hopes up. What’s the luck of me finding you on technically my  _ first  _ day?” He asks, but sticks his hand out anyway.

Steve doesn’t want him to be right though, he wants this to end. He wants his life back, and he’s too desperate to care if he had to suffer for two months, and his soulmate only a day. Not even that really when he thinks about it. So Steve slides his hand to hold the man’s, and feels a shock run up his spine. 

Looking into the other’s eyes it seems they both feel the chains locked onto this day lift — it will be the last one. The last day Steve has been reliving for what feels like  _ years _ . 

Steve laughs incredulously, throwing his head back as he does so. “Well, aren’t you a lucky son of a bitch! I had to live this day for  _ two  _ **_months_ ** , and you show up on your  _ first  _ day, and find me like that!” Steve snaps his fingers to emphasize how quick, and the man laughs along with him.

“I’d be jealous if I wasn’t so relieved.” 

The man raises an eyebrow, and the squeeze he gives Steve’s hand is the only reminder that he’s still holding it. “It looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of both.”

“What’s your name, I’m Steve Rogers.”

“Sam Wilson. So what do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

Steve smiles, still feeling the warmth of Sam’s palm, and not planning on letting go. “I don’t know. Something I’ve never done before.”


	21. Memories Yet to Come -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touching a place one's soulmate has been reveals memories yet to come.

Sam watches Steve wrangle their one-year-old into a diaper under a fog of deja vu. It’s always strange to see Steve actually  _ do  _ the things he saw before some years ago. He can still remember simply standing along the path of the national mall when the first memories had hit him, memories that had yet to occur. Steve, a blonde stranger at the time because Sam had missed him the first time he ran there, this stranger taking his face in his hands to kiss him, sliding into his lap for nothing more than a hug, and the last one Sam had written off as fluke. There was no way his soulmate could be Captain America, he could take his soulmate being some white boy, but  _ not  _ America’s sweetheart. And then he met him, Steve Rogers, and Sam couldn’t deny it anymore.

The second set of memories washed over Sam as soon as Steve had walked away, a promise made to get coffee after his next session. He placed his hand against the doorway Steve had been leaning against in a moment of forgetfulness, too busy watching Steve’s backside as he went which was just as pretty in a pair of jeans as it was in trackpants. Sam saw Steve emerging from darkness through a pair of bars, could feel the ghost of a smile before the next memory came sliding in, Steve pushing a ring onto his finger with a blush on his cheeks, Sam watching Steve hold his niece curled against his chest with an unspeakable amount of longing, and the moment he’s witnessing now — Steve pulling a diaper over a little girl’s bouncing legs. 

Sam blinks hard to focus on Steve who’s fastened the diaper with a sigh, finally letting Cecilia toddle away from him giggling, and waving her arms about. Steve pulls himself up with a groan, and tisks at him as he takes the spot next to him on the couch. 

“I guess you can’t recognize someone in need of help which I find strange considering your employment is in counseling.” Steve grouses, but the rise of his lip sort of breaks up the act. 

“I’m sorry, I was,” Sam raises a hand to wave around in the air near his head, “somewhere else. It’s weird seeing you do things I’ve seen you do before, but  _ before _ you’ve done them. It almost feels fake, like you’re putting on an act.”

Steve nods in understanding, having experienced the same thing himself firsthand. “Yeah, well I wasn’t, your daughter really did need a pull-up on, else she’ll pee all over the place, and herself, and I happen to really like these floors.” 

Sam knows to anyone else it’d sound like a joke, but the look Steve gives their cherry wood flooring is full of love, and appreciation. He laughs to himself about it, and Steve looks up to smile, happy to amuse him anyway he can. 

“Let’s switch spots.” Steve says eagerly, bouncing in his seat.

“I don’t want to know what she’s gonna look like. I just want to watch it first hand.”

“But don’t you want to see us old together? Just the thought of that makes me want to go  _ crazy.” _

And Sam can see what kind of crazy Steve means by the way his eyes darken. Of course that would get him going.

“The thought of us being together that long makes you hot?”

“Ridiculously, yeah. Do you think Shelly could take her?” Steve asks, his brows coming together in serious thought before he snorts. “She  _ loves _ Cecilia, there’s no way she’d say no. That would give us an hour at least.”

“So you’re good just  _ imagining _ what we would look like in old age, right? I don’t have to spoil the growth of my own daughter?”

“Well, technically  _ I  _ could still do it, I just wouldn’t tell you.” Before Sam can open his mouth to object Steve raises a hand, and shakes his head, “I know, I know, you don’t like secrets, and that’s too close to one — so I won’t. My imagination is good enough.” Then he leans in with a smirk to whisper, “Plus, if you fuck me good — which you always do — it will be  _ more  _ than worth it.”

“What, and then you’ll take me to Red Lobster?” 

A horrified look comes over Steve’s face, and he rolls his eyes, “Good  _ God _ , no. Can you think of the  _ mess _ Cecilia could make with a _ lobster _ ? That gives me heart palpitations. No, I’ll just take the sex please.”

There’s an instance of silence before they realize what Steve’s just said, and laugh. After that though Steve stands up.

“I’ll go see if I can wrangle her into some clothes for the trip, pack a little bag or whatever.”

“I could do it if you want.” Sam offers, since Steve already did the diaper on his own.

“No.” He replies, winking at him, “You save all your energy for later.” 

Sam shakes his head with a groan as Steve laughs, running a hand over his face. But he married him.  _ That’s  _ the love of his life. Not too bad. 


	22. Time Stops -- Steve's POV

The last thing Steve thought would happen when he approached the runner he'd been ribbing for the last hour was the stopping of time. If he was honest with himself, which he always was, Steve thought his soulmate died. He made peace with that reality, not that it would change if he didn't. It made the most sense to him, but the universe didn't care about that. Steve may still think being ripped from his own time is the worse thing to ever happen to him, but in truth it happened in order for him to experience the fiercest love capable of mere men. And today is the day he would find it.

Steve walks over to the man who's catching his breath beneath a tree’s protective shade.

“Need a medic?”

“I need a new set of lungs.”

Steve kind of loses the words in the pure heaven he finds is the man's voice, only jumping back in when a hand is offered to him, and Steve eagerly helps the man stand.

It happens then, they notice the ubiquitous woosh of all sound going out, an uneasy stillness coming to surround them. Steve looks up to see a bird paused mid flight, its wings still caught in an upbeat.

“Bullshit.” He breathes, looking back down at the man's confused expression.

“What?”

“I spent seventy years in ice, and I got myself to believe you weren't here, that I missed my shot, that you’d be dead, and gone.”

“Is time stopping not enough proof for you?” He answers, laughing as he peers up at the bird that first caught Steve’s attention.

“I can't believe you're here, that you're alive.” Steve breathes, and the thought runs through his head for the first time — maybe getting frozen wasn't all that bad, maybe it wasn't really a mistake. As soon as he thinks it he's hit by immense guilt for Peggy. Mistake or not he left her, abandoned her, and even though it all turned out alright for her in the end there’s no forgetting that he left her first.

“Steve, are you with me?”

“How do you know my name?” Steve asks in turn, still dazed by his reverie.

“I'm sorry to say it, but everyone in America knows your name, and I'm not stupid. I knew there was only one man who could run like that who isn't Usain Bolt.”

Steve gives a bitter laugh at that. “What's yours then?”

“Sam Wilson at your service for what, the next 24 hours if time still existed?”

“Sounds about right, it's what I've always heard anyway. How should we spend it?”

Sam shrugs his shoulders, and Steve laments the fact he wore a sweatshirt so he can't properly appreciate the motion. “Whatever we want. What do you want?”

Steve notices how he doesn't ask what he wants to do, but a broader, deeper question. He decides to take advantage of it.

“To hold you until we melt together.” He replies. “Would you let me do that?”

Sam’s head drops with a shy smile before rising again. “Sure. My place is not too far from here.”

Steve follows Sam out of the park, the both of them observing all the unknowing people in their various poses of motion. Steve slips his hand into Sam's, and blushes when he's thrown a smile, dropping his head when Sam's gaze is too warm.

The radiance of his smile is burned into his brain already however, and Steve can't help to think he's like the sun.

Sam lets go of Steve's hand to unlock the front door, nodding his head for Steve to enter when he does.

It's a nice place that is actually lived in unlike Steve’s that just looks like an apartment, not a home. He hardly gets time to look around before Sam's taking his hand again, and leading him down a hall.

“To do that thing you talked about.” He answers, a question Steve didn't have to ask.

When Sam pulls his sweatshirt off over his head Steve takes it as an invitation to do the same, but only after thoroughly appreciating what he knew Sam was hiding from him. After taking his fill Steve slips his shirt off too, and pushes his track pants down too so he's clad in his briefs.

Sam's already lifting up the edge of his sheets, and crawling in, turning so his back is to Steve, and raising an eyebrow when he stays stuck to the floor.

“You comin’?”

“Give me a minute.” He answers, because Sam laying shirtless under nothing, but a thin sheet is a very pretty picture he doesn't want to forget.

Steve finally walks over to the bed, crawling in behind Sam, and making sure to press himself fully along his back before reaching his arms out to pull him half on top of him.

Sam turns in his arms at that so he can rest his head in the curve of Steve's neck.

“So this is all you want for 24 hours? We can do this when time is in motion.” Sam whispers, though there’s no one on earth to hear them.

“Just this.” He sighs, pressing his cheeks to Sam's.

“It feels like you've been missing all this time.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

Steve squeezes him tighter in agreement, content to hold him for now, and love him forever.


	23. The Pain We Cause -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any physical touch hurts until one meets their soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what the fuck that title is once again. Just sounded pretty.

    The moment it happens Sam is actually relieved from his anticipation, then the two of them can fumble through apologies due to an assumption everyone makes about him. He hasn’t met a single person who didn’t think that since he’s in his early thirties, _surely_ he has met his soulmate by now, and can withstand simple touch. Just because that meeting hasn’t occurred yet, and all physical touch hurts — a stabbing, stinging sensation — Sam doesn’t bother being obvious about it like wearing gloves all the time, or covering up. To him it simply doesn’t make sense, causing more discomfort to himself in order for another discomfort never to happen, while his way he just has one moment of discomfort, and that’s it.

    Sam finishes up the session with a new veteran, holding open the door for her on her way out. He sighs, and sags against it as soon as it closes. The first thing he’s going to do when he sees his soulmate is slug ‘em really hard. What, are they some traveling maniac who gets hives when they stay on one continent too long?

    He isn’t given the time to properly follow this line of questioning when there’s another knock on his door. Sam opens it expecting it to be another counselor, or maybe the receptionist, but pauses in silent surprise at the man standing in the threshold.

    He’s broad shouldered — ridiculously so — fair haired, and blue eyed. It doesn’t quite click in Sam’s head though until the man actually opens his mouth.

    “Um, said I needed to talk to someone — the lady at the front desk said you were one of the best.”

    Sam sighs with a smile, “Yeah, Carrie would say that. C’mon in.” Sam walks back to his desk so he doesn’t have to see Captain America walking very casually into his office.

    They sit down together, and Sam really regrets his decision of not watching, because suddenly Steve Rogers isn’t looking too hot. The bouncing of his leg is almost vibrating the whole damn room, and he looks really...scared.

    “If you changed your mind, you can walk out at any time, but you look like you’re carrying a battlefield around in your chest. And I happen to have a lot of experience with that.”

    Steve raises his head, looks at him differently, “First hand?”

    “Absolutely. Took me a while to get rid of that weight, the most troubling of it anyway, some I still have, some is now a part of me.”

    “Do you ever have-” And he seems to choke, and struggle on the very word, “Panic attacks? Because I’m starting to have them again.” He looks up again, seems to make a choice, “Just like when I did in the midst of World War II.”

    Sam tilts his head, and makes a guess, “They’re worse, more frequent?”

    Steve nods doggedly, holding a hand over his mouth a moment, and closing his eyes. He shakes his head, and Sam has the urge touch someone, an urge he’s been barren of for a long time after Riley.

    “They happen in the midst of anything, never in the field, but...every other _normal_ part of life is a test to me. I had one in the cereal aisle, at the bank. It’s mundane things that trigger it.”

    “They are mundane, but they’re not normal to you. Too much of your life hasn’t _been_ that for it to be normal to you, and I won’t promise you that shopping for groceries will become normal, but I’ll get you to where you can tolerate it if you’ll let me.”

    Steve leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, one hand encircling the fist of the other in front of his mouth. He nods minutely before standing up, and offering a hand.

    Sam raises an eyebrow, and is about to tell him he can’t when Steve opens his mouth first.

    “I know, me too, but it’s the significance of it.” He answers, throwing Sam completely for a loop. Captain America never found his soulmate back in the forties. How is that possible?

    Sam saves that question for later, instead rising to his feet as well, and bracing himself for a moment’s pain for the moment itself.

    But that pain never comes, as soon as their palms touch a feeling of euphoria completely foreign to Sam washes over, and outwards, traveling up his arms to spread through the whole of him. His head tips back with it, his eyes falling shut at the sensation.

    When he opens them again a moment later their hands are still touching, and Steve’s standing there with his eyes closed, and a grimace twisting his pretty features.

    “What?” Sam asks, nervous.

    “This means you can’t be my counselor.” Steve answers, genuinely sad about it as he meets Sam’s gaze.

    “But I can be your boyfriend.”

    A slow smirk plays across Steve’s lips, and his hand tightens around Sam’s. “I guess that’s a fair trade.”

    “Besides, there’s other counselors with firsthand experience, and I’ll introduce you to some of our senior vets — Charlie will be _ecstatic_ , might just leave me something in his will.”

    Steve laughs as Sam shakes his head, and comes around the desk, “I really hope he doesn’t.” He breathes, knowing his words are all too true.

    “Well, it’s getting a little late. I’m sure the other counselors have left or are in the midst of leaving right now. Do you want to…” Sam’s voice trails off, not sure how to phrase inviting Steve Rogers into his apartment.

    “Is your place close?” Steve asks, easily picking up on what Sam’s saying. He probably thinks the night’s just begun as well.

    “Just a little ways from here, yeah. I’ll tell you all about Charlie, you’re gonna love him.”

    Steve smirks again, following him out as he closes the door to his office. “I sense a favorite.”

    “Yeah, well it’s mutual at least.” Sam decides to save all his stories for later though, happy to walk out of the VA with Steve by his side, and an easy silence between them.

    Sam sucks in a breath at the bike that _definitely_ wasn’t there before. Even better is the proud grin Steve flashes, rocking up onto the tips of his toes, and shoving his hands in his pockets.

    “This yours?”

    “Yeah, she’s a beauty.”

    Sam knows Steve watches him run a hand over the seat, graze the handgrips. He steps close, too close though Sam doesn’t have a thought to complain.

    “You wanna?” He asks, his voice hitched low, and almost as sexy as the bike itself.

    “Can I?” He asks, back, squealing inside when Steve gives a nod.

    Sam straddles her with an excited grin, not minding when Steve laughs at his enthusiasm.

    “Now, I haven’t been on one of these since I was a fucking kid, but this feels _so_ much better than I remember.”

    “Go ahead,” Steve says, tossing him the keys.

    Sam quickly turns it, and she starts up thunderously beneath him. He laughs in pure delight before turning around in the parking lot. Steve watches him play around the whole time, laughing, and looking just as happy at Sam’s own happiness.

    He forces himself to stop after a few minutes, lets it idle as he straddles it, and looks to Steve with a barely sated sigh.

    “You have fun?” Steve asks, walking up to him, his smile bright under the moon.

    “Oh yeah.”

    “Why don’t you drive us home, you know the way.” Steve replies, straddling the bike behind Sam, pressing his chest firmly against Sam’s back, more than they both know is strictly necessary especially since they’re still.

    Sam doesn’t say anything about Steve saying home, doesn’t even know if Steve realized what he said. He doesn’t want to embarrass him if he hasn’t, so Sam simply revs the engine a bit before pulling off into the street.

    The ride is nice, the wind rushing past the two of them, Steve’s arms wrapped tightly around Sam’s middle, and his chin on Sam’s shoulder. They make it back in one piece, and the rest of the night is filled with Sam’s stories.

    Sam tells him all about Charlie, how much he loves Sam — like a son. How that love led him to try to set Sam up with one of his daughters. That had been hilarious later, but awkward in the moment itself.

    Sam thinks about offering Steve to stay the night, not sex, just a bed, but Steve saves him the trouble by saying he should get home.

    Sam walks him to the door, opening his mouth to bid him a goodnight when it’s attacked by Steve’s in a rush.

    He makes a little sound of surprise, but kisses back as soon as his wits are about him again, trailing his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of Steve’s neck.

    Steve pulls away breathless despite the kiss not being that long, blush riding high on his cheeks. He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I panicked for a second there.”

    _“That’s_ what you do when you panic?”

    “Well, no, I was thinking it was my last chance to kiss you, and I didn’t want it to pass, and— yeah, sorry.”

    “Don’t be. I liked it. Goodnight, Steve, stop by the VA tomorrow. I’ll set you up with someone else.”

    “Alright. Goodnight, Sam.”

    But the man doesn’t leave, looking very shy instead, too shy to ask for what Sam knows he wants. So he just rolls his eyes, and pulls Steve in again by his simple white shirt, kissing him one last time before pushing him away, and further out the door.

    _“Goodnight.”_

Steve just waves goodbye, walking backwards to his bike before straddling it, and roaring off into the night.

    The next time Sam hears from Steve it’s not exactly the best reunion.

 

    Carrie had gotten him first, and she didn’t have to say a word for Sam to know it was bad, whatever it was. He stood up, and ran out the VA to where Steve was waiting, out of breath, and struggling to breathe, kneeling on the concrete.

    “S-Sam.” He gasps, and Sam flies to his side in an instant.

    “I’m here, Steve. I’m here.” He says, wrapping an arm around the man’s shaking shoulders. Steve’s blue eyes look up at him, and Sam's gut wrenches at the panic so clear.

    “I — I can’t breathe.” He gasps out again, his chest rising too rapidly for any breaths to actually be taken.

    Sam doesn’t say anything like ‘yes, you can’ knows that always pissed him off mid-panic attack. Instead he pulls Steve chest to chest with him in a hug, starts taking big, long inhales of air so his lungs rise against Steve, giving him a rhythm to match.

    At first it doesn’t work, gasps still sounding in his ears, but then gradually they stop until Steve’s breath is rattling as he breathes with him. Sam rubs his back through his T-shirt, and shushes him.

    Steve shakes his head against his shoulder, “I couldn’t— I didn’t know what to do, I just ran here. It came out of nowhere.”

    “It happens.” Sam says, shockingly happy to be the man Steve runs to. “What do you want me to do, Steve?”

    “I can’t talk right now. Don’t want to. Could you...take me home, to your home that actually _looks_ like a home?”

    “Sure, c’mon.”

    Sam stands up with him in his arms, nodding his head toward the parking lot to tell Carrie he’s gone.

    A few minutes later Steve’s curled into him like a child, and his breathing has slowed down. Sam’s legs are falling asleep with two hundred pounds of supersoldier on him, but he doesn’t want to disturb Steve’s sleep. Seems like he needs it.

    So he sighs, and runs a hand through Steve’s hair instead, leans his head back against the couch. Steve shifts closer to him, pressing his face into Sam’s neck. His eyelashes flutter before revealing the blue of his eyes again.

    “Thank you.”

    Sam only presses a kiss to his forehead in response, and Steve’s eyes fall closed again. No more physical pain from touch alone, but emotional just might be worse.


	24. Imaginary Friends -- Sam's POV

The first time Sam sees him he’s in immense pain. He had just fallen off his tricycle after hitting a rock in his path, tumbling over the handlebars, and skinning the whole right side of his body pretty much. 

There are tears in his eyes, and the moment he opens them to search for his mom, the man’s there. He’s tall, and blonde, his eyes blue even from afar as he walks up to him. When the man reaches him he kneels down with a soft smile, his eyes softening a bit as he looks down at him.

“Hey, what a scrape, huh?” 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Well, Sam. I’m Steve, nice to meet you.” Steve turns to look over his shoulder at Sam’s house. “That your home? I can take you back there if you like.”

“Tricycle too?”

“Tricycle too.” Steve affirms, nodding with a smile. 

Sam holds out his arms, and lets the man scoop him up easily in one, taking the tricycle in the other a few steps in Sam thinks to ask his question.

“How do you know my name?”

“I’m from your head, Sam. I know everything you know. Like you hate being called Thomas, and your favorite M&Ms are the green ones because of the commercials.  _ Aaalll _ sorts of things.”

Sam didn’t question it. It was only made apparent to him that his imaginary friend being a  _ grown _ man was a little weird when his momma asked him about it.

“How tall is Steve?” 

“Taller than you.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“He’s twenty-seven, it’d be weird if he was my height.” Sam had laughed, not understanding the pinching of Darlene’s eyebrows when she looked at him. 

But anyway, Steve was his imaginary friend — there was nothing he could do about it, and he didn’t want to change it. He knew a lot of things, and he helped him get up to high places, what was there to want?

 

As the years dragged on, and Sam started approaching Steve’s age, he began to notice just  _ who _ his imaginary friend looked like. It was hard to when he was little — he didn’t really know Captain America then, and Steve was always dressed in normal clothes, never the uniform with the shield, and everything. 

So when Sam finally figures out his soulmate has to be Captain freaking America, he wonders if the guy is even alive. Then Manhattan happens — the aliens, and Thor’s crazy brother Loki trying to take over the world, and Sam stares agape at the TV not because of the aliens, but because the guy that’s been in his head his whole life is suddenly alive, and well, throwing his shield, and saving the world. 

 

Sam helps with the clean up, and that’s where he officially meets him, because of course Steve Rogers would help clean up the mess he caused even if he did just save the world. 

He doesn’t see him at first, he’s helping some other guys lift a fallen beam off of someone’s car. Once the small job is done Sam dusts off his hands, and starts to move off to other things when someone clears their throat.

Sam looks up, his eyes locking onto cool blue. His mouth opens a little at seeing him in person, his face still grimy even though he’s in normal clothes, like Sam's always pictured.

“It’s you.” Steve says, walking forward, and staring at him hard.

“Yeah. I didn’t even know if you were alive.”

“They kept it under wraps pretty well.” Steve answers sheepishly, scratching at the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How long have you been here, cleaning, that is?”

“About three hours, you?”

“Four.”

“You wanna…” Steve trails off, not actually saying it though the offer is clear. Sam nods his head, moving to walk away before pausing, and offering his arm. 

Steve pauses as well at the gesture before his cheeks flame a scandalous red, and he takes it without looking Sam in the eyes. They walk out of the destruction arm in arm, Steve leaning on Sam’s side more than strictly necessary.

They walk out into the less destroyed parts of New York until they reach a nice coffee shop. Sam holds the door open for the superhero, and he blushes again with a nod of thanks. 

They take a seat in the corner on a little couch, Steve leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and looking a little more than nervous.

“You’re a little old school, huh?” He asks, breaking the silence. 

“I thought you’d appreciate it.” Sam replies just as easily, giving him a soft smile. 

Steve blushes again, and shakes his head, “You’re way more charming all grown up.” 

“Was I a child as your imaginary friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Funny, you were always an adult as mine.” 

Steve nods, then frowns a second. Sam reads his mind. “You weren’t wearing the uniform or anything. Always in khakis or jeans.” 

“Oh, good.” 

They order something to drink, and by the time their beverages get there, the two of them have a nice, easy conversation going on between them. Sam orders two refills in the time he talks to the man, both of them swapping stories about their imaginary friends, first meetings, and things like that. 

Before either of them know it a lady is coming over to them to ask them to leave, and Sam looks out the window to see night has fallen. Huh, well how about that, he thinks, paying the bill before Steve can say anything, and holding open the door for him again.

In the warm night air the two of them sigh, and look at each other with small smiles, almost as if sharing a secret. They both know they don’t want the night to end. So it’s only a matter of question, your place or mine.


	25. Your Name Is All I See -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See your soulmate's name everywhere.

_Sam Wilson_ were the first words Steve was able to read as a kid. Back then though, he hadn't known just how often he would see it in his life to come. Steve quickly got used to seeing the name wherever he went, on signs, or letters, or even on all the army applications he saw. 

But Bucky's was even stranger when they talked about the name they saw everywhere. What kind of name was T'Challa? And no last name? But Bucky always joked with a name like T'Challa, do you really  _need_ a last name? And if he couldn't find the guy then he was just damn stupid, or T'Challa didn't want to be found.

The name didn't stop haunting him when Steve's physical pain finally went away, when he was finally accepted into the army to do what he felt was his duty to his country, especially with a reason no better than punching out a bunch of Nazis. 

Steve would stand in a smoky room full of the Howling Commandos, running his hands over a map of Nazi Germany, and speaking about the next place they would take, when Sam Wilson would just be printed clear as day across the map, faded as if to look like it was genuinely a part of it instead of an illusion only Steve can see. Either way Steve asks Peggy to order another large map, and she doesn't ask why, just thanks him for asking her. Steve goes to his room that night and cuts out the piece of the person's name with his pocket knife before shoving it into his pocket.

And on the dark day Steve flies head first into the Arctic, he's speaking to Peggy about the dance they'll never share, but tightly clutching the strip of fabric at the same time, thinking of the person he'll never meet now, the one who the world thought was perfect for him. And he guessed he never would get to know if that was true or not. And it wouldn't have been the first time Steve Rogers had guessed wrong.

* * *

On the day Steve passes the runner on the National Mall, he had every singular intention of flirting with the man, and the name he had once, and still occasionally saw everywhere was nowhere near his mind. But that never stopped him from carrying that strip of map with him, always balled up in his pocket, or if not on his person directly, never too far from it. 

Steve helps the man up from his spot beneath the tree, not lingering on nice his hand feels in his own even with hard won callouses. He places his hands on his hips, tries his best to be casual, and not like this is the closest human interaction other than work he's had post defrost. He's not quite sure he's succeeding, but Steve thinks the man is way too handsome to possibly pass up without at least taking a shot.

"What's your name?"

"Sam Wilson." He answers, and Steve actually staggers back a little in shock. 

"Yeah, thought you'd be surprise. It's not cause I'm black though, right?"

Steve shakes his head, trying to catch his breath. "No, God no, or you kidding me? I fought in WWII, punched Hitler over a hundred times."

Sam laughs, clapping him heavily on the shoulder, and giving the muscle beneath his hand a squeeze that makes tingles run down Steve's back, and sides. He pulls out the strip of fabric he carries with him everywhere, unballing it from his pocket, and laying it down in Sam's open palm.

"Oh, huh." He gives a funny little laugh, shaking his head fondly as he looks down at it in his hands. 

"You can see it, huh?" Steve asks, always hearing that only soulmate's could see each other's name, and vice versa, but never having anyone to actually test the theory out with.

"Yeah. Clear as day. It's funny I did the same thing." And Sam reaches into his pocket to pull out of all things, a simple tube of chapstick, but instead of saying Chapstick it says Steve Rogers in that same iconic font.

Steve laughs, taking it from him when offered. He has the sudden idea to use it, but think that would be maybe just a little too forward. 

"Well, I was gonna ask you out before this anyway. I have all the more reason now."

"That's good news, hate to know I'd been trolled all morning for nothing." Sam smiles when Steve laughs a little guiltily. But he's not going to apologize if that awful behavior led him here.

"Let's see that list one more time, I think I got all the Rocky movies at home anyway."

"Really? I heard they got pretty bad."

"I guess you'll just have to find out." Sam says, shrugging while looking like he knows exactly what he's doing to Steve. 

Without a word Steve pockets Sam's chapstick, and watches the man do the same to his strip of map. 

"Let's go."

"Hey, I'll gladly accept a piggyback ride as an apology for your first impression, just putting that out there."

Steve laughs even though he deserves it, more  _because_ he deserves it. "Is that how it is?"

"That's how it is, playboy."

Steve flushes when he calls him that, squats down a little bit as he offers Sam his back. "C'mon then." He says, glad to be doing something so stupid like he's a kid again getting his ass handed to him in a New York alley. 

Sam doesn't hesitate on his offer, hopping onto his back quickly, Steve sliding his hands under the man's legs, and holding him close. He's not heavy by any means, and Steve quite enjoys the walk with Sam's close proximity, the man whispering directions into his ear with his arms wrapped tight around his neck. And all the while the chapstick bouncing around in Steve's track pants is a beautiful warmth, and proof that someone had loved him as much as he always deserved. 


	26. Thumbprints -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have your own thumbprint, and the one of your soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> modern military, steve is transferred into the Falcon program since the army would be a "waste of his talents." Riley hasn't died yet, but him and Sam are more like brothers.

Steve didn't think walking in would be a handful of daisies, or anything, but he didn't think it would be this awkward, or make sweat run down the back of his neck. As soon as he parted the damn flaps of the tent all movement, conversations, and sense of ease stopped. All eyes are tuned in on him, and narrowed suspiciously. They somehow have the power to make their judgement feel massive when there's only a handful of guys present. Just four guys eyeing Steve down like he's Devil come to collect their souls. 

A man stands up, and Steve's attention snaps to him, stiffening when he finds no malice there. That's not the only reason, and he knows it too well with the way his heart has kicked into double time in his chest. He's handsome too -- high cheekbones, a goatee framing a nice pair of lips, his skin about a medium brown that glistens under the desert heat, and his eyes are just as melting.  _Damn. I'm in trouble_ , Steve thinks. 

"Hey. You must be the surprise they were talking about. Excuse the looks, as you can tell we don't get many around here." The man starts to walk towards him down the aisle between cots, and waves a hand at the rest of the three men. "Knock it off. You don't look at a guy like that when he's about to be the only entertainment you've had in  _weeks_ , right?" 

Steve himself raises an eyebrow,  _entertainment?_ The man's hands come up to clap down on both of his biceps, and grins at him full-on, and then Steve thinks he doesn't care  _what_ he is as long as those smiles keep coming his way. 

"Entertainment? How do you know that?" A guy pipes up, inching forward from his seat on his cot. 

"It's pretty simple, Riley. Man's gonna bust his ass the first time he gets up there, and I know none of y'all are gonna be ashamed about laughin' about it." 

Steve doesn't take his eyes off of the man in front of him, but hears the groups riotous laughter at what he's said. He swallows, desert already making his mouth and throat dry as sand. 

"I'm Steve Rogers, was only transferred here because they said my talents would be wasted in the army." 

"Steve Rogers, huh? Well, I'm Sam." He turns, and points to the rest of the men, not giving Steve time to realize the significance of his name. "That's Derek-- a stocky Hispanic man with one hell of a beard, and a seemingly permanent scowl, and that's Kurt." Kurt at least smiles at him even if reluctantly. He's clearly Asian, Steve's not sure of the specifics, and he's not dumb enough to ask on his first day. 

Sam turns back to him, and suddenly Steve recalls it -- being fingerprinted, and having his soulmate be this Samuel Thomas Wilson. He's kept the name in the back of his mind ever since, and maybe if he's lucky...

"Hey." Sam shakes his shoulder a little, and laughs at him. "You tuning me out already? That's just cold."

"N-no, I wasn't, I just-"

"Relax, it was only a joke." 

"Yeah, but, um...Your last name wouldn't happen to be Wilson by any chance, would it?" 

Sam steps back, and freezes. "It would be. How-"

"If you're middle name's also Thomas, then you're my soulmate!" Steve brags. Yes,  _brags_. He can't fucking believe this. Before Samuel Thomas Wilson was just a name, but now he's an oh-so-pretty face, and an oh-so-perfect body, and an oh-so-sexy voice. And he's all his.

But then Sam sucks in a breath, "'s David actually -- ooh, so close." 

Steve's face falls, and all the happiness drops right with it. His mouth moves to open, but doesn't get the chance before Sam is bursting into laughter. 

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to get you back for taking me off guard. Yeah, my middle name is Thomas -- I'm your soulmate, don't worry, alright?" Sam says, his voice still high, and light with amusement.

"Oh...that wasn't very nice. How come you didn't know my name too?" Steve asks after Sam hasn't finally settled himself.

He shrugs a shoulder, "Guy didn't tell me, and at the time I was too excited about other things to ask." 

"Oh." Steve says, looking down, and scrubbing his boot into the dirt. 

"What? What's wrong now, why are you looking like that?" 

"Huh? Well, it just means all this time I've been thinking about you, and you weren't thinking of me." Steve answers, easily having forgotten they're not exactly having a private conversation.

"Yo, Sam, you're soulmate's a fucking softy!" Riley shouts, the other two quickly agreeing with him. 

"Hey!" Steve shouts back, startling even himself, "I may be soft when it comes to Sam now, but I can bet you I won't be one night down the line, and you're gonna be laying there in your cot listening to us fuck each other's brains out." 

Riley's mouth drops open with a smack of his lips, making Derek, and Kurt throw their heads back and howl. 

Sam smiles at him a little devilishly then, "Fucking each other's brains out, huh? I just met you." 

"Yeah, I'm sor-"

"And I like you already." 

Steve's face flushes hot, and his breath catches when Sam reaches out, and tugs him right up against his body. "Damn." He breathes, Derek's and Kurt's guffaws still loud behind them. 

Sam turns their way with his arms still full of Steve. "I don't know why you two are laughin', last time I checked there was only one tent for the five of us." 

The laughter quickly dies out at that, but Steve's and Sam's just starts to begin. 


	27. First Touch of Warmth -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a been awhile. sorry.

Sam never thought his soulmate would literally fall from the heavens like an angel in the middle of Times Square, then again, he never really thought of  _ how _ he would meet his soulmate all. Instead he always thought about what it would mean — a final farewell to constant cold. He’d finally be able to feel the sun on his skin, and the actual warmth a blanket was meant to provide. And the key to that warm bliss, was the man who just fell from the sky at his feet, only Sam doesn’t know that yet. 

The man falls in a blur of blue, and Sam can hear as well as see all the air go out of him with the impact against the concrete. He realizes the man is Captain America himself, and winces. Even as a supersoldier, concrete can’t be welcoming. 

“Damn, man, are you okay?” Sam asks, stepping closer cautiously as the American hero regains his breath. 

His blue eyes flicker up to him as he pants open mouthed, his chest heaving beneath the white star made so iconic. Sam steps closer, and offers his hand free of his coffee. Rogers’ eyes fall over him once more before his hand comes up to take his own. 

Sam tugs him up, their hands clasped tightly between their bodies, and his eyes flick up to Steve Rogers the moment their palms start to burn in heat. The unfamiliar warmth travels up Sam’s arm, radiating through his whole body, and setting him aflame for the first time in his life. 

He looks up at Steve, and can see his eyes widen behind his helmet. Sam’s eyes drop down to his lips which are pinker than he could have ever imagined, watching them open, and close wordlessly for a few moments. 

Their hands are still tightly clasped between them, and Steve squeezes his palm to say more than words he can’t seem to say. 

“I would invite you to join me back at my place, but I, uh,” Sam spares a glance up at the sky where fucking space pirates are wreaking havoc while cackling madly, “I’d hate to take you away from... _ that _ .”

Steve swallows, and his pink lips twist into a crooked smirk Sam loves at first sight. “Usually I love beating the heck out of these guys — it’s its own kind of therapy, but I wanna take you up on your offer a little more.”

“Only a little?” Sam asks, very aware of the hand he’s still holding, and how appraising Steve’s eyes look. 

“More than — will the offer still stand when the job’s done?” 

“You’re my soulmate, of course it will. I don’t have anything to write my number, or address on though.” He answers.

“It’s fine, just tell it to me — I’ll remember.” 

Steve’s so sure of this it brings to mind a fact about the hero Sam read somewhere, something about an eidetic memory. 

“That’s right, you never forget a thing, do you?” 

Steve’s smirk brightens into a grin, and he shakes his head. “Nope, especially not anything even relatively related to you.” 

“You’re just saying that cause you can feel warmth for the first time.”

“And I’d say it even if I couldn’t.” And Steve lets his eyes fall over Sam’s body again in a  _ very  _ clear ‘you’re hot as hell’ sort of way. 

Sam can’t say he isn’t flattered. So he gives Steve Rogers his address with pirate ships floating above New York, and just when he’s done, and it looks like Steve might have one more flirty thing to say, the man is swooped up by no other than Iron Man. 

“Hey!” He shouts, already flying fast away from Sam.

Sam laughs, and shakes his head, flexing his palm, and reveling the heat Steve gave him.


	28. Stars Out Tonight, Stars In Your Eyes -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people's favorite, one of the AUs I made up myself. One can't see the stars until one meets their soulmate.

Sam watches Steve hurriedly rush around his bedroom with a small smile. "Hey." He says, making Steve stop to look at him sheepishly.

"Why are you freaking out so much, don't get me wrong -- it's adorable, but hey, chill out."

"I'm sorry, Sam, I know I'm a little hectic right now, I just..." He breathes in, and the tension goes out his shoulders with it. "I really want us to be it, y'know? I love you." Then his eyes go wide, and Sam grins brighter. 

"Shitfuck, I wasn't supposed to say that. It's only been a day, Steve, c'mon."

"It's been one hell of a day though, hasn't it? You seem like the type to fall fast." Sam replies, wanting to say the words, but knowing he's not there yet, and not wanting to give Steve any false hope or anything of the sort.

"Well, if we see them we see them, and if we don't," He shrugs, "We don't. It's not like we have to break up if it doesn't happen. Not everyone ends up with their soulmates, y'know. Some just choose. And don't you think in a way that's more romantic than having the universe decide?"

"I don't know, I guess, in a way it is. But I also think just the soulmate part and being  _chosen_ for each other is pretty romantic in its own right, don't you?" Steve asks, coming back to sit next to him on his bed. 

"Yeah, it is, but it's predictable." Sam answers, lying back on Steve's bed, and smiling when Steve follows him down to rest his head on Sam's chest. His hand fists in the fabric of Sam's shirt as Steve tangles their legs together.

"I just really want you to be the one. I don't want to have to 'steal' you from anyone, or you me. I just want you to be mine. And then I want to fuck under the stars cause that's really predictable too, but I'll be damned if I don't want to do it." Steve says, closing his eyes, and sighing as if it's decided.

* * *

 

Sam only wakes him up when dusk is about to fall, just before the night. The two of them drive out to an empty quarry, and set up shop in the back of Steve's truck. He throws the blanket over them, and then closes his eyes, taking in a shaky inhale, and breathing it out slowly. Sam smiles, and takes his hand, not wanting him to be this nervous, but unable to find it not adorable. He really wants this. He really wants  _him._ And Sam can't help, but love that, and he decides in this moment that no matter what happens -- whether the sky remains blank or twinkles at last, Steve will be the one for him.

He pulls Steve closer by that ridiculous waist he has, and cups the back of his head. He closes his eyes too, and they let a few uninterrupted moments go by until they're sure night has fallen around them, and above. 

"Open your eyes on three, okay." Sam whispers, and Steve nods against him, his hand clenching again in his shirt.

"One...two...three." He whispers, and they open their eyes, the first thing registering with Sam is the ragged gasp Steve lets out next to him. They're beautiful -- twinkling up there in their glory unknown to themselves, massive in number, and covering every inch of the sky. 

"Oh, God, Sam, I knew it! I  _knew_ this was it! Hell yes! Let's fuck -- right now, right here!" Steve exclaims, too excited for words as he kneels up, and fists both hands in Sam's shirt, making him laugh. 

"I'm serious, c'mon -- I brought everything. Do you want to fuck me, or should I fuck you -- hell, let's do it both ways, and flip a coin to see who goes first." 

Sam throws his head back, and laughs again, but Steve whines down at him -- very serious. 

He intends to satisfy him, but maybe after looking just a little bit longer. The stars are the stars after all, and Steve is his own.


	29. Spirit Animal Unlocked -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like this AU, I'm not excited to write it all, but it's been a couple of days so

"I bet your spirit animal is gonna be a bird." Riley jokes, jostling Sam in the side as they walk home from their afternoon classes together. Sam's caught off guard, and the push almost sends him stumbling onto the campus grass and off the walkway. 

"Shut up, of course it's going to be. And at least it's not as stupid as your damn donkey, you ass." Sam retorts, gesturing to the shimmering animal walking silently alongside them both. Riley laughs as he looks down at him, and the thing he-haws angrily in Sam's direction. 

"He doesn't like being called an ass -- and it's probably just cause I'm stubborn anyway." Riley answers, not at all bothered by what his spirit animal turned out to be. 

Sam's about to say something back, something he knows is lame and around the lines of "I'll be a bird cause I'm so fly," when he bumps into someone on the path in front of him. 

His feet tangle with theirs and he lets out a yelp before he goes tipping forward helplessly to land on top of whoever he's ran into. He barely manages to catch himself with his hands, but when he does he pushes himself up and looks down at the man beneath him. 

His glasses are knocked askew, and his eyes are big and blue behind them, bigger from how ridiculously thick his glasses are. His blonde hair is blown out against the sidewalk from the force of their fall.

Sam opens his mouth to apologize, but stops when a stinging warmth invades his heart and makes his whole body flush with heat. "Um, uh." He sputters, looking lost down into the blue of the man's eyes.

"H-hi? Could you get off of me please? You're quite heavy." He says, wincing a bit. 

"Oh, oh yeah, of course -- my bad." Sam answers, pushing himself up completely, and taking the man's hand to help him up too. Once the man is standing and brushing off his cardigan and dress shirt Sam bends down and grabs the sketchbook that was tossed down in the hassle. 

"You alright man?" 

"Hm? Yeah, thank you." He says, taking the sketchbook from him with a blush and closing it shut rather quickly. 

Sam looks down at the man's side then to see a lion is suddenly standing there almost as tall as he is. 

"Um, is that your..." He trails off, pointing to the man's left. 

"Wow, I guess...yeah.  _That's_ my spirit animal? A lion?" 

"That's pretty cool." And Sam looks to his shoulder to find a falcon resting their casually. He sticks a hand out, "I'm Sam Wilson, nice to meet you."

"Steve Rogers. Um," He blushes again, and shoves his hands into his pockets to leave the sketchbook in the hold of his arm. "Where are you headin' to? I would love to, um, hang out some -- get to know you a little more." 

"Of course, hey, uh, Riley?" Sam says, suddenly remembering his best friend but looking up to find him already several paces away. He waves over his shoulder, and Sam laughs, shaking his head.

"Well, I guess that's that. Riley's my roommate so if you want privacy we should probably-"

"Yeah, yeah, sure, my roommate Bucky has a class for the next three hours so that should give us plenty of time." Steve smiles up at him shyly, and they turn to start walking toward his dorm. 

A few minutes pass before Sam sees Steve's hand inch out a little before jerking back to his side. It happens several times, a personal battle with himself before Sam reaches out and takes it to end the to and fro. 

Steve flushes scarlet at his side, and gives a nervous little laugh. "Sorry, I wasn't sure if you wanted to or not."

"I want to." Sam says, smiling down at his little lion. 


	30. Compass -- Sam's POV

Darlene gave Sam his compass at a young age, younger than most would even think of giving their child their soulmate compass, but then again, all the Wilsons have a history of finding their soulmates early on in life. So she didn't see the harm in giving it to him.

Sam had snatched it from her hands in a flash, and the look of pure adoration in his eyes told her she didn't need to tell him how important it was or to keep up with it. 

"You'll find your soulmate with this, Samuel."

"What's a soulmate, momma?"

"Your best friend but a little more chosen by the universe." She had answered, and Sam had never looked so excited.

On Monday Sam carried the golden compass close to his heart the whole day, and couldn't stop showing it to all his friends, talking about his best friend chosen by the universe. 

Only when he's alone though does he flip open the top of it to watch the needle waver before pointing to the North and slightly to the left. Sam's eyebrows raise, and he feels his heart jump out of fear and excitement in his chest. He looks up at the playground, and rises unsteadily onto his feet, tentatively stepping forward to follow his compass. 

It points just past the school, and outside the fence so Sam tosses a look over his shoulder to make sure the teachers are all too busy to watch him as he hikes himself over it. 

The compass points steadily forward so Sam trots along a little worriedly, his heart picking up speed with every step. Is this really it? So soon? Is he even ready? Is the other person ready? 

Sam thinks about turning around and holding it off for another day until he stops just behind where the school ends and sees him sitting there. His back is turned to him, hunched over with his arm moving a little, his hair blonde and fair under the sun. 

"Um..." Sam breathes, unintentionally causing the boy to start and whip around to look at him. Sam's a little taken back by the coke glasses resting on his nose, and how big they make his blue eyes.

"Wha-what are you doing here? What is that in your hands?" He clutches something close to his chest and pulls his eyebrows down below the frame of his glasses, "Go away!"

"Woah, woah, it's my soulmate compass, alright? And it's, um," Sam looks down at it to see the surface aglow in pink. The metal is warm as well, steadily growing hotter in his hands. 

"It's what?" The boy asks, still holding whatever he has tightly against his chest.

"It's pointing to you." Sam thrusts it out and shows it to him, "See? I think we're best friends chosen by the universe."

"What?"

"Soulmates." Sam clarifies, walking over to him and sitting down next to him on the grass. The boy pushes his ridiculous glasses further up his nose, and scoots away from him a bit. 

"We c-c-can't be soulmates." He whispers.

"Why not?" Sam asks, fear seizing him quickly. He had never thought to think of rejection. His fingers tighten around the compass in his hand, and it's only in his head that it's warmth dims. 

"Because you're too pretty." The boy mumbles mostly to himself, blushing and turning away from him. 

"Well, I think you're pretty too, even with those stupid glasses on." Sam says. 

The boy turns back to him with a frown, and hesitates before sliding them off, and blinking hard a few times.

Sam silently takes them out of his hand and slides them on, whistling in shock at how truly bad his sight is. 

"Is that better?" 

Sam takes them off again to look at him, and his eyes are prettier with them off -- nothing to distract from his face. 

"Yeah. I'm Sam."

"Steve." They shake hands, and the touch lingers too long, Steve's cheeks coloring quickly and making Sam smile in reply. 

"Whatchu got there?" He asks.

"Oh, this? Um, it's my sketchbook." Steve answers, taking his glasses back and sliding them on again to see properly. "I don't let anyone see it other than my mom, and only because she steals it when I sleep."

"Can I see it?"

Steve frowns at first, "Well, since we're soulmates..." He says, releasing it from his grasp and handing it over. 

Sam smiles at him, and Steve is quick to smile back just as wide. 


	31. Scars Upon Your Skin -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's born with scars that cover their skin head to toe, and only the touch of their soulmate can heal them.

The most shocking thing about Captain America coming out of a block of ice after seventy years was that his skin wasn't clear or smooth by any defintion no matter how vague. He had red welts and scars just like everyone else who hadn't met their soulmate. It was obviously a shock. Everyone assumed the man idolized by all of America met and loved his soulmate back in his own time, his natural time at least, but that was of course grossly untrue. 

Steve didn't really give a shit about what anyone thought about him not being as perfect as in America's memory of him. He was never one to care beyond the opinion of his mother, and the serum didn't change that -- couldn't change the scars either. To Steve that was more than enough proof to show nothing on this green earth could. The scars everyone were given at birth would only be moved by the touch of love itself, not science. And the scars Steve were given now made him even more of a rolemodel.

Now he was someone important who also hadn't met his soulmate. Even if no one ever said people with unmarrred skin were better, it was still silently believed to be true. Steve changed that, he was Captain America for God's sake -- a  _scarred_ Captain America. Steve loves being a rolemodel for the underdog even if said underdog is the majority of the world. 

Steve's used to being the underdog, no one can ever deny that, but with that said, he still has a hope that his soulmate didn't die somewhere away from him seventy years ago. He wants to meet them, not solely to get the ugly scars off his skin, but  more simply just love them as hard as he can. The serum made every part of him stronger than the average man, but it did absolutely nothing to his heart -- that was always stronger than the average man's. It loves, desires, and fights harder than anything, and Steve just wants to meet the one person who can handle it all, and give it back to him just as good.

And that's when he meets Sam Wilson. He's been in the world for a year or so, and he is of course still reeling, just not as hard. Steve bypasses the Shield therapists because all of them went to school for their degrees and no battlefield, and he can't see himself ever trusting them with the pain he's gotten from a place they've never experienced. 

Steve's standing at the reception desk, his arms resting casually on  counter as he listens to the nice girl tell him all the counselors they have. Then a door opens, and he turns his head at the sound.

Steve faintly hears the woman say, "There's one now, Mr. Wilson." But Steve's too busy hopelessly oggling the man. He's not wearing anything dressy, a simple dark blue sweater and khakis, but Steve finds him too stunning for words. No man should walk around with skin as rich and brown as his, cheekbones as cute as his, eyes as warm and kind. And the facial hair is just perfect on him, as Steve's sure everything is. He probably fills out those khakis just as well as he fills out that shirt -- and what the _fuck_ is happening to Steve's head right now?

Steve blinks hard once to clear all the lust slamming into him, and finally tunes back into reality to see the beautiful man is now right in front of him. Shit.

"Hey, man, you alright?" He asks, voice as smooth and dreamy as the rest of him.

"Y-yeah, I'm alright, I mean, enough to be here." Steve answers, happy when the man smiles and laughs.

"Well, I guess you're right there. I'm Sam Wilson, as I'm sure Natalie's already told you, a counselor. It's nice to meet you."

Steve tries not to jump forward too quickly when Sam offers his hand, though the thought of touching this man makes Steve want to sing for the Gods.

Instead he calmly takes the hand stuck in the air between them, and sucks in a breath at the sudden stab of bliss he feels. It doesn't hurt, but it almost _seems_ like it does with its intensity -- just a calm euphoria that leaves room for nothing else. Steve thinks he feels his pupils dilate, and he sees Sam's do the same as their hands cradle  each other. Fuck.

"Never thought I'd hear Steve Rogers drop the F-bomb."

Steve wasn't even aware he said it out loud, but he's quick to correct him until he realizes Sam didn't call him Captain America. He called him by his name. And that's more telling he's his soulmate than any sensation.

"You can't be my counselor if we're soulmates."

"That's good, can't kiss your counselor."

Steve's smirk grows to a full blown grin at that until Natalie clears her throat.

"I would mind my own business, but the fact of the matter is that you two are standing in front  my desk, flirting your asses off. Just take him out already, Sam. Your schedule's clear for the rest of the day anyway." 

Steve blushes at her bluntness even if it makes him like her at the same time. He bites his lip and looks back to Sam in front of him.

"What do you say to that?"

"Where would we go?" Steve asks, and Sam snorts, starting to lead him toward the door with his hand. 

"As long as you're with me, does it matter?"

Steve pushes his breath out and shakes his head once, "You're good."

"I know, I won't need to be anymore now that I got you." 

"Uh-uh, you got me, now yoy have to keep me. A guy likes a little charm now and then."

"I'm sure you do." Sam replies, smirking at Steve in a way that makes his chest and jeans tighten. He gets in the car as soon as Sam unlocks it, smiling so hard his cheeks begin to ache.

And the next day the scars start to fade.

 


	32. The Timing -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A countdown to when one's soulmate first says "I love you."

Sam is freaking out. With every second that passes, his heart beats wilder and wilder, thumping so violently he's sure it could start an earthquake. Steve's gonna say it, any minute now, no, exactly three minutes from now. And it's not like they're having a specifically noteworthy conversation. Steve's just talking about the movie they're going to watch tonight -- marking off another movie Steve's missed due to his ice nap. 

He's really excited about Heathers, waving his hands about enthusiastically as he talks about it. Sam's not surprised he's excited since he loved Mean Girls so much, then again Sam can count the number of people he's met who didn't like Mean Girls on one hand. And tonight they're going to watch the original Mean Girls with none other than Winona Ryder. An actress Steve always flushes when talking about. It's more than fair to say he has a crush on her. It's not an obsession at least -- Steve spent weeks mesmerized by Angela Bassett after What's Love Got to Do With It, not that Sam could blame him, still it was concerning.

Sam curses himself when he tunes back and finds he only has mere seconds left before Steve sets his heart on fire.

He looks up at the man in front of him, and Steve sighs, his shoulders slumping with it as he gives Sam a rather blissful look.

"I love movie night," Then he snorts, and Sam's heart clenches in anticipation. "Of course, not as much as I love _you_ , but-"

Sam glances down at the zeroes now on his wrist, and back up to Steve whose eyes are going impossibly wide. His hand comes up slowly to cover his gaping mouth before he starts to stutter behind it.

"I-I, um, I-I didn't mean to admit that- _say_ that." He looks away with his eyes hooded. "Not yet at least." 

Sam glances down where Steve's hand is balled tightly into a fist so tight his knuckles are colorless. He doesn't want him to beat himself up for too long. 

So he reaches a hand out and covers his. Steve's head jerks up immediately, and his blue eyes are wide with shock, watching him so hard he won't miss a thing.

"Don't worry about the timing, it will always be right as long as I love you too." Sam says, smiling.

Steve swallows as he slowly releases his fist and turns his palm upward, "And you...do, right?"

"Of course. I love you, Steve."

A gust of breath leaves him, and Steve finally twines their fingers together. 

Sam watches Steve look at their hands together before the man draws his closer. He cradles it between two of his own, and lowers his head to kiss it adoringly, gazing up at Sam from beneath his lashes.

And it's a look of love.


	33. Falling Through Time For You -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People with soulmates begin to randomly jump through time as soon as they turn eighteen. The only thing that can root them in their natural timeline is the meeting of their soulmate.

What Steve thinks about the most is his mother. After that, the sole person who can stop the nightmare of always waking up in a different time. But mostly his mother. Who he left behind without any choice made on his behalf. Just before his birthday they stayed together all day, held a get-together with Steve's closest friends before he would leave them all for a different time. 

There were tears, a  _lot_ of tears. Steve always goes back to the last moment he shared with his mother, their hands tightly clasped between them, their tears dripping onto their knuckles, his mother's blue eyes staring into him with the hope of committing him to memory until he returned. And then he was gone. The first year he visited was 1862. In the middle of a cobblestoned street Steve fell to his knees and cried, knowing his mother was centuries away, alone, her hands empty. 

Steve was beyond happy to find he would only stay a day in each year. That meant zero to no chance of forming attachments he'd only leave again. And he would never get sick of a time either. But where he woke up today, Steve thinks he could get sick of this time  _very_ quickly. 

He's in the middle of a forest, a few trees he hasn't seen before, and then his eyes catch on movement, and his jaw clenches. Dinosaurs. "What the fuuuuuuccck." He sighs. Steve closes his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. All he wants to do now is jump to the next year, if he can even survive the day to get there. 

Steve figures he's too far away for the dinosaurs to see him right now, plus the particular bunch seems to be herbivores, and are pretty invested in their plants. He rises to his feet, and stretches. Every time he jumps time seems to dress him appropriately, and even though humans never walked with dinosaurs, he's dressed as appropriately as can be in the skins of animals. 

Steve gives one last grudging sigh before walking in the opposite direction of the dinosaurs, picking his way through lush flora. It occurs to Steve a few minutes later that he's not very fluent in the language of nature -- he has no clue which plants are edible, and which could kill him instantly. The only thing he can think to remedy this is to watch the dinosaurs and see what they eat, but that of course means getting close to fucking  _dinosaurs._

Steve closes his eyes with a grimace, and tips his head back to crisply curse, "Fuck." 

Moments later Steve is still fighting with himself on whether he should starve until the next year or just take a peek at some dinosaurs who could easily step on him. That's when he hears a rustling sound from behind the plants he can't fucking name. Steve stiffens, and takes a step back. 

"Who's there?" 

Steve gasps when a man ducks out from behind the bright green leaves, looking just as surprised as he is. "Ssssshhhhiitt." Steve breathes. 

"Yeah, sounds about right." The man replies, stepping out completely, and standing with his hands on his hips. "Last time I checked dinosaurs didn't say 'fuck' so I came looking. Man, am I glad to see you. I'm tired of all this time-jumping shit." 

It takes Steve a moment to actually  _hear_ what the man's saying past how nice his voice sounds, all smooth and deep enough to make his spine tingle. At his silence he notices Sam's happiness begin to fade. 

"You...are my soulmate, right?"

"Um..." Steve shrugs, and laughs nervously, "Only one way to find out." The man walks forward, and holds his hand out, his smile warm and hopeful. Infectious too, since Steve starts to feel a little hope as well. And as far as soulmates go, he'd be pretty damn lucky to be stuck with this guy. 

"I'm Sam by the way- Wilson, Sam Wilson."

"Steve Rogers." 

They clasp hands, and it all shrinks away. It's just like whenever Steve's jumped while conscious, a moment where he can't breathe leaving him gasping on the other side. He opens his eyes while still feeling Sam's hand in his, and they're in New York. Modern day New York with bustling streets, and cars. 

"Yes!" Steve shouts, pumping his free hand into the air victoriously. He turns back to Sam though in the next second, because honestly, even better than returning home is returning home with a very sexy man. 

"Guess you're stuck with me, huh?" Steve asks, smiling crookedly. 

"That doesn't seem like a bad thing." Sam replies, his grin as bright as his eyes, and making Steve's heart beat faster. 

"Just you wait." Steve says, grinning full-on when Sam laughs.


	34. Windows to the Soul -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A person's eyes change with their soulmate's emotions. This isn't really about that though, so much as me just indulging in writing Peggy Carter. I hope you all like reading this one as much as I liked writing it.

Sam smiles as he watches Steve pace nervously in the hallway, rubbing his hands together, and shaking his head. He only stops to stare at him seriously. 

"Are you nervous?" He asks.

Sam laughs, and gestures to him. "If you could see your eyes right now you'd know I'm not. But I know just by looking at you that my eyes are orange right now."

"I am nervous, that's true. I mean, what if she doesn't like you? I know that's impossible --  _every one_ likes you, but still, it's a possibility. This just means a lot to me --  _she_ means a lot to me, and so do you so... I just want her to love you as much as I do." 

Sam smiles at him softly, his heart still going crazy whenever Steve tells him that. "I know you do, and she will. Let's just go inside. You already told her I'd be joining you guys today, she's probably too excited for us to bail now." Sam reasons. 

Steve takes a deep breath, and nods, one of his hands taking Sam's while the other one knocks softly before opening the door. Steve ducks his head in with a smile, and Sam follows suit, his eyes falling on the old woman resting in her bed. 

"Hey, Peggy. I brought him, just like I promised. This is Sam, my soulmate." Steve introduces, closing the door behind them, and leading Sam to the chairs by the bedside. 

Peggy's face brightens as she takes him in, her eyes sparkling, and her smile rather charming. "Sam! I'm so excited to meet you!" She exclaims, stretching her hand out to take his free one. Sam raises it to his lips as soon as it's in his grasp, and Peggy laughs. 

"Every time I tried to talk about you Steve would blush redder than a tomato, say he was happy, and leave it at that." She says, turning her head to glare at him playfully. Steve keeps his head lowered as said blush covers his cheeks again. Sam elbows him roughly in the side, and he winces even though Sam knows it probably felt more like a poke than anything. 

"Well, he's here now, we can talk about him as much as you like." Steve replies, raising his head to smile at her.

Peggy nods firmly at him with her lips pursed, "And that we _will_ , so Sam, what do you do?"

"I'm a counselor down at Veteran Affairs." Sam answers.

Peggy raises her eyebrows with a pleased smile, "You served?" 

"Two tours, pararescue." 

"How noble." She remarks, smiling at him as though they share a secret. Sam loves her almost as much as his own Ma at that moment. It's easy to see how Steve fell for her years ago. Peggy looks well even with her age, he can't imagine how stunning she must have been when Steve first met her. 

"He is noble." Steve says, grinning like a goof, "He's my prince." 

Sam rolls his eyes as Steve leans forward to kiss his cheek, and Peggy scowls at Steve fondly. "Cheesy  _and_ dramatic, that's what you are." 

"I know, it really gets out of hand sometimes." Sam sighs, remembering all the many times Steve acted like he was in a badly-written soap opera.

"Do tell." 

Sam leans forward, and clears his throat, "Well, there was the time my mom allowed him to make a toast at a family dinner, and you can pretty much guess how that turned out. Steve raises his glass, and it started out fine until-"

"Noooo." Steve whines, his eyes pleading before his mouth does.  _"Please_ don't tell this story. I haven't even forgiven  _myself_ for this story." 

"It's hilarious though, and you meant well  _obviously._ Just this one story, ok? Nothing more."

"But it's the worse one." He whines, leaning into press himself against Sam's side. But Sam's too busy processing the ridiculous bullshit he just said to care about the contact. 

"It's the  _worse_ one, Steve? Really? Is it? I can name about a dozen more that make me cringe to this  _day._ "

Steve's eyes fill with terror, and he shrinks back into his chair. "Please don't." He whispers.

"So back to the toast." And Sam turns back to Peggy who looks very amused just from watching them interact, "Like I said, it started out nice. He was talking about the importance of family, how it was a blessing he never takes for granted especially since he didn't have many to turn to when he came out the ice, and that of course led to him talking about how thankful he was for having met me. And then it just staid there. The whole entire toast became a declaration of his love for me -- that's it. 

"And I think that would've been fine, but then he started talking about aspects of me that  _weren't_ so family friendly." 

"Steve!" Peggy shouts through a laugh, looking at him with surprise. 

"I know, I know. I started talking about sleeping with Sam in front of his mother -- not my brightest moment, okay? But I just...went somewhere else? I just..." Steve sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I wasn't sitting at that table in my head, that's for sure." 

Peggy laughs again, but her face is pitying. "You poor baby, but I take it it's good then." She says, turning her eyes to Sam.

"What?" Sam asks. 

"The sex. I take it it's good." Peggy clarifies. 

Sam opens his mouth- "Yes." He looks over at Steve and sees he's nodding, holding up a hand with his pointer finger touching his thumb. "Steve."

"What? It is, and Peggy's never been anything nearing prude." 

She smiles, "That's true, I'm quite the opposite of a prude really. I quite like talking about it. So what are your moves?" 

Sam then spends a minute glancing between the two of them, both showing nothing but encouragement. 

Steve nudges him with his knee, "Go on, baby, don't be shy." 

And that's how he ends up talking about sex with one well respected Peggy Carter, and the not-at-all-innocent Steve Rogers.


	35. Teeth on Your Neck -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha/beta/omega dynamics for this, but no rut or mpreg -- just purring. Everyone has bitemarks on their neck that match their soulmate's teeth. okay, there's a little smut in here

The moment Steve walks into his favorite bookstore he knows something is dangerously amiss. First of all, there's a smell that just  _hits_ him like a one-two punch. It's so strong it overpowers the dusty, inky smell he usually acquaints with his corner store bookshop. It's not bad by any means, actually so pleasant it almost bowls him over -- the smell of coffee beans, maple, and cinnamon. It's sweet, but not sickeningly so with the balance of the bitter coffee beans, and Steve stops just inside the shop to sway on his feet, close his eyes, and breathe it in. 

As the scent fills his lungs it makes his heart beat faster, and a strange sensation tingle under his skin, mostly concentrating at the nape of his neck. Steve swallows to try to clear it, but it peskily remains, so he just shakes his head a bit, and pushes his glasses further up his nose before making his way between the bookshelves. He walks idly through each section with no specific book in mind, growing more restless the deeper he dives into the store. 

Unconsciously, Steve follows the scent until he arrives at the back corner of the shop where a lone man is standing, his head lowered as he reads whatever's in his hand. Steve steps forward nervously almost without his own knowledge, and clears his throat. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or scared when the man turns to him. 

As soon as their eyes lock, Steve stumbles back as the smell fucking  _pulses_ and becomes impossibly stronger.  _Shit._ His mouth drops open, but all Steve can do is step forward again, and hum like an idiot.

The man's eyes bare into his, and they're too warm, and too kind, and too beautiful as they rake over him once. "You smell..." He says, his voice trailing off. Steve raises an eyebrow as he waits for him to finish. 

"Heavenly." He finishes.

Steve blushes, and shuffles nervously on his feet. "Uh, thanks...you too. That's why I came back here, actually."

"Oh." The man closes his book, and closes the distance between them, walking right up so close Steve has to raise his chin to look up at him. And usually he hates having to do that with people, but with this man he thinks he'd kneel. 

"I'm Sam." 

"Steve." 

"Nice to meet you, Steve.  _Very_ nice to meet you." 

Steve gives a dopey smile, watching this beautiful black man look back at him. And then Sam's face pinches, Steve's about to ask why when he hears it too -- a purr. He's fucking purring.  _Fuck._

"Um, uh, I'm purring." 

Sam smiles, and nods with a laugh, "Yes, you are."

He shakes his head, and bites his lip. "I can't stop it. I'm purring like,  _really_ loudly for a bookstore."

"Well, you wanna get outta here? I think it's impolite to bite someone's neck in public." Sam says, looking pretty bemused at Steve's current situation, something he doesn't mind at all.

"Yes, please." Steve pleads, reaching out to grab Sam's hand, and pull him through the stacks toward the front of the store. They stop to pay for the book Sam's still holding, and Steve squirms, and blushes as the girl behind the desk smiles at him cause his purring's so damn loud.

"Thank you." Sam says, turning back to Steve and taking his hand again, "Let's go." 

Sam leads him out of the store, and down the sidewalk. It occurs to him about a block away to ask where they're going. "Are we heading to your place?"

"Yeah. This is it right here." Sam answers, stopping at a nice looking brimstone. He fishes into his back pocket for his keys, and quickly unlocks the door. Steve realizes then that he's finally stopped his embarrassing purring. He sighs in relief, and jogs up the front steps when Sam gets it open and waves him inside. Steve thinks he's in the clear, but as Sam jogs up the steps in front of him (giving him an excellent view of his ass), he turns back with a raised eyebrow and asks, "No more purring? I miss it already."

Steve blushes and laughs. "Don't, you might start it back up again."

Sam winks at him, and Steve almost falls backwards. "Don't worry, I plan to." 

Steve stands maybe a little closer than necessary as Sam opens his apartment door, and they walk inside. It's a nice little place, but Steve doesn't get a long time to look at it cause there's a  _bang_ , and then Sam is caging him with his arms against the door, looking down at him with his eyes on fire, breathing his air. Steve actually jumps a little -- he didn't think that fucking wink meant  _this._

"So..." Sam drawls, making Steve's neck burn even more. "How do we get that purr back, huh?" 

Steve swallows, "I think you're doing a pretty good job on your own." And just on time his purr starts back up again. Sam grins at him pridefully, and Steve blushes in answer. He shifts closer until his strong, hard thigh is between Steve's legs, not touching but just present. Steve clenches his fists, and wills himself not to move towards it even with his growing arousal. It's especially hard being this close to him -- someone he just met -- his scent is so strong now, jamming up his nostrils, and giving him no clarity. 

Then Sam's hands are roaming over his waist, and Steve lifts his own up to link behind his neck, his purr hitching when Sam gives a tug, and Steve's suddenly off the ground. 

"Bed or couch?" Sam asks.

Steve shakes his head, "If we go to the bed I'm gonna let you fuck me."

"Couch for now." Sam replies, walking them over to it and sitting so Steve is on his lap facing away from him. His head spins when Sam tilts his head to the side, and traces his soft full lips over the burning skin there. Steve chuckles softly, and squirms against the arousal digging into his backside. 

"You know, I've never been manhandled so much before. Especially not in one day."

"I'm sorry." Sam murmurs, his lips brushing against Steve's skin as he says it. 

"Don't be. I like it when you do it. It's hot." 

Sam chuckles, and Steve's purring grows louder as lips trail over to the nape of his neck. Steve's heart thumps harder, and he feels sweat start to form on his palms and almost wants to ask Sam to stop because he doesn't want this to be meaningless just yet. And it's shocking how much he realizes he  _wants_ Sam's bite to match. He wants it to match more than anything.

"You ready?" Sam asks. Steve thinks that's sweet at least, and bobs his head, taking a breath before Sam kisses the nape of his neck, and sinks his teeth into his skin. 

Steve yelps at the shock of pain and pleasure that courses along the length of his spine, and he bucks back against him, making Sam give a growl and tighten his arms around Steve's waist. The strange sensation he's felt since the bookstore intensifies, a warm throb seeping into his neck. Along with it comes an overruling calm.

Steve sighs, and goes boneless in Sam's hold, letting his head fall back against Sam's shoulder. His teeth are released from his neck, and Steve jolts at the shock of it. He nuzzles against his head and whispers, "That do anything?"

"Fuck yeah." Sam grins against his cheek, and Steve somehow  _feels_ the hope he has, a lust other than his own. "I think this is it."

"Really?" 

"Well, only one way to really know for sure, am I right? I guess it's my turn." Steve says, twisting himself around on Sam's lap. He ducks his head for Steve to get at it easier. Steve clenches his jaw so his fangs slide out, licking his lips once before cautiously leaning forward, and sinking them into Sam's nape. He doesn't make a sound other than a hiss of breath. 

Steve feels the pain as he bites Sam, but he also feels the overwhelming happiness the man has. 

He pulls back and looks down at the bite mark there, where it faintly glows a soft, lovey red. Steve smirks smugly, and Sam sits back up to look at him.

They both grin at each other before Sam tugs him forward to scent his neck. He hums pleasantly, and it makes Steve's soft purr amp up again as a warm feeling crawls into his chest, and stays there.

"You smell like marshmallows and apple pie." 

"You smell like coffee beans, maple, and cinnamon." 

And it's a smell Steve could never grow tired of.


	36. Sword in Stone -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a sword in stone that only their soulmate can free

Today was the day for Sam's sword freeing. Usually someone's sword freeing took weeks of trials. No one typically freed the sword on the first day. But little did Sam know Steve Rogers was nothing but typical. 

Sam was currently sitting in his chair located directly in front of his sword and stone, watching eagerly while joking with his friends as one by one, people tried to free his red handled sword from the large boulder. It was all in good fun really, Sam didn't get his hopes up too high whenever walked up to give it a try, so the fall wouldn't be as hard when they tugged and tugged, and nothing happened. He would just smile, give them a nod of thanks for trying, and keep laughing. 

And then a scrawny little something came up. Someone he had never seen before. He was  _really_ tiny -- not the tallest either, with blonde hair, pale pink skin, and a set of blue eyes as big as china plates. His friends immediately started laughing at the sight of him sizing up Sam's sword and stone. It made the guy look up sharply and he frowned. Sam did too, elbowed them all, and told them to firmly "shut the hell up." 

He leans forward in his chair, and gestures grandly at the man, "Be my guest. Give it your best shot." He says.

The guy smiles at him a little uncertainly then, but nods, pushing up the sleeves of his worn, brown leather jacket before rubbing his hands together and placing them cautiously on the sword's hilt. Sam watches him take a deep breath that pushes his tiny chest out, his own elbows on his knees as he's leaned forward. Fuck what his friends think, this guy is kind of cute in a way. And there's something about him.

Those big doe eyes look up at him what somewhat nervously before he begins to pull. Sam laughs when he sees his friend's jaws drop out the corners of his eyes. The sword starts to move, slowly, but the movement is undeniable. The man looks just as surprised as everyone else as the sword is slowly unsheathed from the rock until he's holding it up and out in his own two hands. Sam's friends and family applaud with a few shouts of excitement. 

The blade of the sword itself is a brilliant bronze with a swirling red pattern down its center ending in two wings at the tip. The guy looks up the length of it in awe before turning a shocked yet smug look toward Sam himself. It startles a laugh out of him as he stumbles out of throne for the day, coming up to tower above him and clap a hand down on the small shoulder.

"Well, I'll be damned. Look at you, huh? Well, I'm Sam Wilson -- nice to meet you."

"Steve Rogers." He says, letting the sword fall to his side, it's tip trailing in the grass. Sam grins down at him and squeezes the barely there muscle of Steve's shoulder. He blushes then, but nods proudly to himself. 

"Well I guess my party is over already -- on the first day too."

"Sorry about that. I just wandered in, saw the stone and the sword and thought," He shrugs, shoving his free hand into his jeans pocket, "Why not?" 

"Well I'm glad you couldn't find a reason not to. C'mon." Sam tips his head toward the house. "Let's go inside -- get to know each other a little more." 

"Sure thing." And Steve swings the sword gallantly swings the sword across his shoulder. Sam snorts, and shakes his head, leading his little blonde white boy into the house and toward his bedroom. He sits on the bed, turning to see Steve standing rather unsurely in the threshold. 

Sam just smiles, and nods his head again until Steve ducks his head with a fierce blush and walks over to sit next to him against the headboard. He rests the sword on his lap, and it's nearly the length of his entire leg. 

"So...Steve Rogers. Ever thought you'd date a black guy?" Sam asks.

Steve guffaws, and pushes up his glasses. "I never really cared what skin color my partners were to be quite honest. I had a long relationship with a Hispanic boy, if that's what you mean. He was an artist like me, I'm an artist. We got along great. I really liked him, but then he pulled someone's sword out and that was that. Now I have you. And let me be the first to say -- I'm very lucky."

Sam smirks at him at that, nudges him with his shoulder playfully. "So...when will I get to pull  _your_ sword out, huh?"

"My stone hasn't forged it yet, so I don't know. At least I don't have to have a whole day to figure out who's my Arthur, right? I would hate being the center of attention for that long. I get anxious and queasy just thinking about it." Steve says, giving a shiver and a grimace to get his point clearly across.

Sam rolls his eyes, and scoffs. "Oh  _really?_ You  _honest to God_ ,  _hate_ being the center of attention? I don't buy that." 

Steve waves a hand down the length of his body with a raised rather unimpressed eyebrow, "If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty unnoticeable. I'm used to not being seen. It's strange to have someone..." His voice trails off as he searches for the right word.  _"See_ you, and I mean really  _see you_ for what you are."

Then Steve looks up at Sam and his face flames as he notices Sam's seeing him. Sam's  _really_ seeing him.


	37. Aglow -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One glows when touched by their soulmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some smutty smut

Steve licks his lips as he watches Sam come out of the shower, his skin glistening under water, droplets sliding down the curve of his muscles as he runs a towel over his face and head before moving onto the rest of his body. Sam shifts his weight onto one foot and the action cocks his hip out perfectly to give Steve a glorious look at the best ass of the Avengers.

Sam laughs when he catches him staring. "You enjoying the view there, Cap?" 

"One hundred percent without a doubt." Steve answers, not at all bashful. He nods his head toward the bed he's sitting on. "Come over here, let me lotion you up. Well, can I lotion you up?"

Sam gives him a look like he knows what he's doing, but smirks at him before sauntering over. Steve's heart jumps in his chest along with something else, the same as that first day he passed him on the mall. He leans over and pulls out the drawer of their nightstand, snatching the coconut oil from there just a moment before Sam is towering over him. 

Steve swallows as he looks up at his partner, and he tugs idly at the tightness of his briefs. Sam smiles knowingly at him before slipping easily onto his lap, and linking his wrists behind Steve's neck. 

He holds back a groan at the glorious feeling of Sam's ass against his crotch and the cradle of his hips, but he has a job to do. 

Steve laughs breathlessly when Sam starts to kiss along his jaw, and neck as he snaps the cap on the oil and pours some into the palm of his hands. He rubs it between them for a moment before wrapping his arms around Sam and sliding his palms slowly up the length of his damp back. He revels in the mass of muscles beneath his hands and the soft skin, enjoying the glow that starts to light the space behind Sam as they touch. It's bright and swirling like molten gold. 

Steve makes sure he gets the full length of Sam's back until he knows he's shining dully all over before moving onto his chest. He squeezes out the oil so it slides enticingly down the center of Sam's chest, right between his pectorals. The sight makes Steve's cock jump in interest and he thinks it's the sexiest, satisfying thing he's seen. 

He finally allows himself to smear the oil over Sam's beautiful brown skin which takes it so beautifully, cupping Sam's chest, and pinching his nipples before smoothing the oil over his shoulders, a glow dancing beneath his touch. Steve's eyes flicker up to Sam's, and he can't help but lean forward another inch to kiss him sweetly. 

A few more drops of oil covers the rest of Sam's torso, and Steve swiftly moves onto his arms. After that he lifts Sam up from his lap, and swings him over onto the bed. Steve sucks his bottom lip between his teeth at the sight of Sam's half-hard cock lazing against his thigh, willing himself to not get distracted with his task. Which takes a herculean effort if he's honest with himself.

Instead he smooths his oiled hands down the length of Sam's strong thighs, massages the oil into the long length of his legs well enough to make Sam give a pleased moan in response. Steve gives a proud smile as he finishes up on his feet, pressing his thumb hard into the arch of his foot. 

Finally Steve hooks his fingers beneath Sam's hips to gently flip him over onto his front. Sam laughs somewhere deep in his throat, and peeks at him from over his well-oiled shoulder.

"You've been looking forward to this part, haven't you?"

"It _is_ a great ass." Steve quips, not so subtlely pouring oil down the crack of said ass before using his thumbs to spread it over the mounds of Sam's cheeks. Steve smirks when Sam laughs. 

"You gonna fuck me after this?" He asks, sounding lazy and happy."If you'll let me, I was thinking so." Steve answers, happily taking his time pushing both thumbs into the meat of Sam's ass before getting the back of his thighs and legs. 

"You put some of that miracle oil in my hair, I think I'll allow it." 

Steve willingly shuffles up over him until he straddles his shoulders, taking one more palmful of oil to rub into Sam's little bit of hair so it gives a healthy shine. 

Sam rolls over beneath him already looking fucked out and blissful. Steve hunkers down to get his lips on his, his hand coming up to cup his cheek as their mouths press together. He laps at Sam's lip before it opens for him, licking into him so their tongues entwine, teasing Sam's lip with his teeth.

Steve groans when Sam smacks his ass, moving one hand to knead at his aching dick. 

Sam pulls back with a sloppy smile. "C'mon, playboy. Let's get it glowing in here."

Steve laughs and moves to press every inch of himself against Sam. "Whatever you say, baby."


	38. To Live a Life -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is immortal with superpowers until they meet their soulmate. After that the powers go away so the two can live a normal, aging life together.

Sam couldn't believe it when they locked eyes across Times Square. He couldn't believe that his soulmate was the legendary first avenger Captain America,  _the_ one and only Steve Rogers. People say you can feel it -- the power, and energy of eternal life leave you -- and in that moment Sam found out they were right. He could feel the energy seep out of his bones, or his being, wherever it was rooted inside him as soon as he locked eyes with Captain America in the middle of the rubble. 

Sam isn't a hero. He never used his strength like that outside of the military. Sam doesn't need his strength, but Captain America sure as hell does. He watches the man slowly look down at his arms, turning his hands over and flexing them in their brown leather gloves. Sam doesn't know what to do. He's rooted to the spot, and he feels suddenly so intrusive though he's feet away. He took away Captain America's powers in the middle of the battle for New York for God's sake. 

He didn't know what to do. So he ran. And Captain America didn't find him again until a week later. 

His soulmate found him again on the national mall after running him into the ground. Sam knows he stills has his powers then, of course he should, because Sam got his back as well. The immortality and powers remain as long as there's no interaction with one's soulmate. Sam thought that's what he would have wanted. 

But as he's panting under a tree, Steve Rogers looking down at him with an unimaginable expression of hurt on his face, he suddenly realizes maybe it wasn't.

"You left." Is all he says.

Sam lowers his head in shame a little bit at hearing the hurt too.

"You left, and you...you didn't come back. Why?"

Sam makes it to his feet on his own, and forces himself to meet Steve's eyes. "Why do you think? Because you're Captain America. You've made your life on your not having a soulmate, and just because I'm here doesn't mean that would change. Or that you would  _want_ it to."

"Well," And Steve shakes his head, his handsome face screwed up as the hurt remains. "You wouldn't know that. You didn't  _ask_ me. You didn't even take the time to ask me that, and I don't even know your name."

"I'm Sam Wilson."

"Ok." Steve nods as if they're finally getting somewhere, and puts his hands on his hips. He looks more winded than he has been running four miles in two minutes. "Sam...I didn't ask for these powers -- no one did. But what I did ask for, or remember asking for as a little boy -- was for someone to love me as much as my dad loved my ma. I asked for that. I asked for  _you_. I don't care about being Captain America. Maybe if there was still a war to fight it would be different, maybe not."

"But there's no war." Sam says.

A slow smile spreads across Steve's face, and he shakes his head. "No, there is not. So I think you should come back with me -- to the Stark Tower. We should talk about this there."

"I'll have to make some arrangements first. I work down at the VA, I hold a group tomorrow." 

"Okay. I'll come with you then, we'll get it all squared away before we fly out." Steve says, looking heroically determined as if Sam's affairs are the most crucial thing he's ever handled. 

Sam nods before walking off the mall, knowing Steve will follow without having to look back. 

Steve follows him like a silent shadow the rest of the day as Sam gets things tidied away, shocking everyone he talks to. Sam does nothing more than smile and nod "yes that's Captain America." 

Once there's someone else to cover his groups, and handle any of his clients Steve wastes no time in taking Sam to a private airstrip where a fucking private jet awaits. 

Steve just smirks smugly at him, clapping a hand onto his shoulder, "Yeah, I looked like that too the first time." 

Over the relatively short flight Sam gets to know Steve Rogers more behind the mask he always wears. 

They sit across from each other in comfortable leather chairs, and Sam tries not to smirk at how nervous Steve looks. He leans back and forward in his chair as if unsure what his posture should be, wringing his hands, and struggling to keep his eyes only Sam's. His eyes seem to keep dropping down to Sam's lips, either that or he has something on his face and Steve's just too damn polite to tell him. So he asks.

"Do I have something on my face, Steve?"

His cheeks flush red, and his back flies back against the chair. Steve scratches at the base of his neck, and when he turns his head Sam sees his ears are red too.

"Uh, no, I'm sorry. I'm just looking at your lips cause I'm an idiot who thinks you're really pretty."

Sam grins, and shakes his head, "Well that ain't nothin' to be sorry for, is it?"

Steve grins at him shyly after that, and Sam scoots forward in his seat. After that conversation comes easily. They talk about their time served, and that leads to the image Steve has -- how he's supposed to be strong all the time, what Sam being with him will mean now. 

"I guess you don't have to be strong all the time." Sam says, and a look of such relief comes over Steve's face. It makes him want to hold him close, so Sam reaches a hand out to him and tips his head back.

"What?" Steve asks, his eyes wide and trusting but vulnerable, nervous as he's been the whole flight. Sam just doesn't want him to be put on edge. Especially not by him. 

"C'mere." He says, his smile soft and hopefully encouraging.

Steve must find it so, because he laughs at himself like it's a bad idea, but gets up anyway. He takes Sam's hand, and his eyes widen adorably when Sam starts to pull him down and onto his lap. But he goes willingly, his legs falling open with his knees on either side of Sam's. He looks unsure at first, but Sam smooths a hand up the small of his back, and Steve drops all his weight down at that like it was a command. 

His pupils are dilated as they look down at Sam's, his mouth hanging open with every panted breath he takes. Sam keeps smoothing his hands up and down Steve's back, stopping just short of his ass every time until he starts to calm down and relax a little more. 

"How's this?" Sam asks. Steve's eyes flutter shut, and he nods.

"Good...real good, I- I like it." Steve whispers, swallowing. Sam smiles at him and raises a hand to press into the nape of his neck, pushing his head down so it rests against his shoulder.

Steve sighs, his hot breath fanning out along Sam's throat. He brings his arms up to wrap around Sam's neck, and Steve's knees shuffle closer to him in the chair. He sniffs once as Sam's hands keep rubbing up and down his back.

"How do you feel?" Sam whispers.

"..." Steve turns and they look at each other from the corners of their eyes. "Small. Like I used to be when I was little. But safe too."

"Well I'll keep doing it then." And Steve laughs, nodding his head. "Please do."

Sam holds Steve Rogers in his lap for the rest of the flight. And when they land and he moves to get up Steve makes a disapproving noise from inside his throat, and jerks his head.

"What? We've landed."

"I know. Doesn't mean we have to get out just yet. It's a  _private_ jet, Sam. No flight attendants -- just us. And I like this, remember?"

"Yeah well just because you feel small doesn't mean you are. My legs are numb."

"All I hear is that means you couldn't have stood up anyway." Steve mumbles, his lips barely moving against Sam's neck as he shuffles closer to Sam. And then he freezes, and Sam does too, because my my is that the start of a boner pressing into his stomach?

"I-I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Sam whispers, closing his eyes, and pulling Steve closer so the stiffness goes out of his body. So they remain there for God knows how long until a door opens, and someone's voice booms out of nowhere.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's going on here, Cap? I didn't know you were one for cuddles." 

Sam looks over Steve's shoulder at the man standing in the aisle to see it's none other than Tony Stark. Steve stiffens again, and moves to get up until he remembers the half-chub he's sporting and thinks better of it. 

"Hi Tony." He bites out, looking none too happy about Tony seeing them like this.

"This the guy from New York?"

"Yeah, this is Sam. Wilson, say hi." 

"Hey." And Tony stupidly sticks his hand out like Sam doesn't have a lap full of national icon at the moment. He purses his lips, and sticks an arm under Steve's tight little ass before rising to his feet with a grunt. Steve lets out a yelp of surprise when he's suddenly being held with one hand, the other one grabbing Tony's to give it a firm shake. 

Tony looks just as shocked as Steve is, and Sam takes his hand back to heft Steve up a little higher. When he dares to look at him his pupils are dilated again, and his mouth is open. He looks shocked and turned on, his half-chub suddenly feeling full against Sam's belly. 

"Can-can you carry me all the way inside like this?" He stutters.

"Why, do you want me to?" Sam asks, grinning like the cocky shit he is. 

"Y-yeah, please." 

Tony clears his throat then, "Y'all are adorable, really, priceless. Now let's go. It's pretty obvious a meeting is in order."

Sam nods, following Tony out of the jet with Steve firmly in his arms. Even through the elevator ride Steve looks mildly impressed, and smug to be in his arms. The three of them ride straight to a conference room where the rest of the Avengers are already gathered. Steve chokes on his spit at the sight, and quickly scrambles out of Sam's arms.

He clears his throat, and smooths down his clothes at some kind of attempt at professionalism and Sam snorts behind his fist. 

"Um...guys, this is Sam Wilson. He's my soulmate. As you see, we've gotten acquianted pretty well so far, and I um..." Steve looks back at Sam unsurely and he only raises an eyebrow.

"Even after this short time I know I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Now I know I could do what Nat and Clint do, spend some time apart before missions so they still have their powers, but uh...I don't want to spend a minute away from this man now that I have him. I want to spend every minute with him. He makes me feel...protected. And that's not something I'm used to feeling. So I won't be staying on the team anymore."

A redhead nods, and so does everyone else, none of them look really surprised by the news. As if they knew as soon as Steve met his soulmate he would retire. Which is all news to Sam himself. 

"We'll still see you right?" The redhead asks.

"Of course. It's not goodbye. If you need me -- call me, I'm still willing to help. But only if you need me." 

After that everyone takes turns hugging Steve, then all of them hugging at once. The redhead pulls back last and levels Sam with a heavy stare. "Take care of him, Sam Wilson."

"I would like nothing more."

Steve blushes and turns to look at him when he says that, shyly looking over his shoulder at him. He'll have no problem taking care of this man, hopefully for the rest of their lives.


	39. My Dog Likes You -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One's pet falls in love with their soulmate, leading them to them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve isn't Captain America in this AU, but Sam is the Falcon

Steve shouts when Balboa goes flying off, his leash ripping itself from his hand before he even has a chance to restrain him. Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head in sympathy at whoever Balboa has in mind of running down being the huge, unstoppable English Mastiff he is. As he's running after his dog Steve sees the future like fucking Raven, he knows who is the target of his dog's vicious affection, and starts to mutter a mantra of "no no no no no no."

There's a handsome black man feet away, minding his own business feeding some ducks in the park's pond. He turns his head as Balboa gets close, and smiles before Balboa leaps like Steve's been training him not to do, and tackles the poor civilian to the grass. 

He barks proudly when Steve reaches them, laying his whole body on the length of the man and panting as if Steve fucking asked him to catch the guy. He shuffles his feet nervously looking down at them and places his hands on his hips. 

"Uh...sorry. Balboa,  _Balboa_." He snaps his fingers and points hard at his own feet,  _"Here. Now."_ The Mastiff whines in his throat, and shakes his head, bending down to lick the man's face and -- oh my god that's Sam Wilson. 

That's Sam Wilson. The Falcon. His dog tackled the fucking Falcon. How is he gonna ask for an autograph now?

"Oh my God, it's you, um, oh God. I'm so sorry. You probably don't get many days like this and my dog just fucking tackled you. Jeez, Balboa, get _off_ of him!" Steve shouts after blabbering for a solid minute, crouching down to gather his huge dog in his arms himself and physically yanking him away.

Balboa fucking whines though, jerking forward to be on top of Sam again. And then out of no where a yipping starts and some Pomeranian is jumping up Steve's leg. He raises an eyebrow at the little guy, and then the toy dog just scampers up his leg like he's a tree. 

"Woah!" Steve shouts, releasing Balboa to hold the small dog in his arms. 

He watches Sam sit up from the ground and hold Balboa at bay from parking on his damn chest again. 

"That's Poptart." Sam says, standing up and idly scratching behind Balboa's ears. 

"Oh, this is your dog?"

"Mm-hm." 

"Does that...does that mean we're?"

"I think so. What's your name?"

"Steven." He clears his throat, "Uh, Steve. Steve Rogers. I already know who you are of course. You're awesome, like  _really_ cool. I can't believe we're soulmates that's so cool!"

Sam laughs at him, but Steve doesn't take the hint and keeps fangirling. "You are by  _far_ the best Avenger. Didn't Time Magazine vote you the best Avenger last year? Oh my God, this is amazing. I am astounded. Can you take me flying some time?"

"Wow, you're really a fanboy, huh?" Sam asks, walking forward and taking Poptart from Steve's arms. 

He blushes and runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess so. It will get better, I promise. I won't fanboy over you every day. I'm sure one day I'll get used to-" He waves his arms around Sam's body to encompass all of him,  _"this."_

"You're not so bad looking yourself, Steve." He leans forward as if to share a secret and Steve's breath catches, "And you can fanboy a little bit more, it's cute." And he winks at him. 

Steve actually feels his knees go weak, and stumbles back, Balboa stopping him from falling with a nudge to his thigh. He looks back at him with a smile of thanks. 

"So I take it you like the Rocky movies?" Sam asks.

Steve nods with a surprised little laugh, "Yeah, I do. They're my favorite movie-- franchise, I guess. Even if it got a little shitty toward the end there, it came back."

"You wanna go to my place and watch some? I got all of them on DVD."

Steve feels his face flush in anticipation. "Yuh-yeah. I'd love to."

Sam ducks forward and kisses his cheek faster than Steve can even appreciate the contact, and winks at him again. "Maybe I'll kiss you like Rocky kissed Adrian, huh? Right up against the door, the both of us sink to the floor?" 

Steve gives what he knows is an unbelievably dopey grin, and tugs at his sweatpants. "Uh, yeah, that sounds great. But man, you gotta stop winking at me. It makes my knees weak."

Sam leers at him, and takes his hand. "If my wink does that to you, just wait until we kiss."

"Do I have to?" He asks wearily, already staring at Sam's lips framed by his goatee and leaning in.

Sam's other hand comes up to cup the nape of his neck as he's pulled in. Their lips connect softly, and Sam was right, Steve nearly faints with how perfect he tastes, and feels against him. 

Sam pulls back with a grin, and Steve laughs, nipping playfully at his nose. "Let's get this behind close doors before I do something stupid."

"Stupid like what?" Sam whispers.

"Stupid like jump your bones in a dog park." 

Sam laughs, and tugs Steve to him by his waist, making Steve's cheeks flush in want. He predicts this will be the first time he won't get through all of Rocky.


	40. His Best ASSets -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One has what their soulmate likes best about them written on their wrist.  
> I added smut to this it's the majority of the fic toward the end and it's all just ass-eating. idk what's wrong with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put Mantis in this one cuz i love her so much, and i don't know what the fuck the timeline is. Maybe after all the shit with infinity war, i don't fucking know.

For Sam, what Steve liked best about him was pretty romantic and a standard answer as things go. It was his smile, and if he ever asked Steve to elaborate he would say it's specifically the gap between his two front teeth. Sam never asks for him to elaborate though, because Steve kind of makes it abundantly clear. When they kiss more often than not he'll smile against his lips and wriggle the tip of his tongue into the space. 

However, Sam's favorite thing about Steve is not so romantic, not really. It's his ass -- his cute tight, little ass with his slender little hips and that ridiculous waist. Sam can't get enough of it no matter where they are or what they're doing, much to the bane and occasional ire of Steve himself. But the real reason Sam knows Steve hates it so much is because it serves to make him all hot and bothered in no time at all. That does nothing to stop Sam from grabbing it though. 

He turns the corner in Shield headquarters and sees his mate up ahead, still dressed in uniform from the mission he just gout off of. Sam smiles when he sees it's the stealth suit he requests to wear the most. It looks like he's heading to Fury's office for something, and telling by the look of tension in his shoulders it's not going to be a pleasant conversation. 

Sam jogs forward lightly, and squeezes his man's tiny ass with both hands before he can know he's there. Steve jumps, and Sam laughs wickedly in delight when his ass tightens with the motion. Steve turns to look at him over his shoulder, and his jaw is set as red floods his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

"Sam. Not now, I am trying to have a word with Fury about honesty, and I don't think he's going to take me seriously if I have a boner." Steve says, speaking through his teeth. 

Sam smirks and turns him around, resting his hands on broad shoulders, "Then save it for later, and let me spend some quality time with that little ass I love so much." 

Sam grins when Steve's blush intensifies and moves down his neck past his uniform collar. "And uh, what," He clears his throat, and his eyes dart away from Sam's to look at the relatively barren hallway they're in, "what would that quality time entail?"

Sam pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and moves his hands to Steve's hips, swaying them with his own. "Oh, I don't know maybe a feast for me, and a damn good time for you." 

Steve's eyes glaze over and his mouth drops open with a smack. He looks down at his shoes, and shuffles his feet before raising his head again with an excited little smile. "Is that- will you- do the- that's the  _thing_ , right?" 

"Oh my god, just say it, Steve."

Sam sees a muscle in his jaw twitch. "Eating ass,  _there_ , are you happy?" He whispers. 

Sam laughs, and nods his head. "Yes, now let's go home, huh? Fury owes me one for this." Sam flattens his hand against the small of Steve's back and the two of them turn to leave together. 

Steve snorts, "Really? Does he?"

"What are you getting at?"

"You benefit from this more than he does, I'm sure."

Sam touches his chest as if affronted as they step onto the elevator, "Are you insinuating that I like eating ass?" 

Steve noses into his space at that, his pink lips pulling into that smirk he's too well known for. He pushes Sam back into the corner, boxing him in on either side with his magnificent arms. 

"I'm not saying you like eating ass, maybe it's just mine. It  _better_ be just mine." He whispers, leaning in to kiss Sam's lips softly at first before taking a deep breath through his nose and pressing into him with a force it seems only Steve can exert. He gives a groan that hums, and vibrates against Sam's lips, wrapping his arms tight around Sam's body like he's trying to touch all of him at once. 

Then their descent is stopped, and the doors slide open to none other than Mantis. Sweet, innocent Mantis. Sam clears his throat to get Steve to stop, nudging him away. She grins at them brightly though as if she didn't walk in on two grown men necking in the elevator. 

"Hello, Samuel!" She exclaims, completely bypassing Steve. Word on the rumor mill is she has a little bit of a crush on Sam, which he's sure if he wasn't in a near perfect relationship with Steve he would pursue. 

"Hi, Mantis. How's it going?"

"Very well! How are you?"

"Never been happier." He answers, grinning at her. Though he can feel Steve's unhappy aura as if it projects. He elbows him. "Hi, Mantis." He grits out.

She looks at him with a pout then, her antennae drooping down. "Hello, Steven. You'll be happy to know Bucky is sleeping well now without my help."

"Oh. Good, thank you for doing that."

"I am happy to help." Then they stop at her floor and she exits with a skip in her step. Sam elbows his boyfriend again when the doors slide closed. "Ow." He whines.

"Shut up. Stop being mean to that girl, she's harmlessly adorable."

"Yeah, but she likes my man. That's not so harmless to me." Steve grumbles, yelping when Sam stomps on his foot. "Hey!"

"Stop being so insecure. I don't like eating an ass that's salty." 

Steve throws his head back and laughs at that, and Sam smiles at the sight of his eyes squeezed shut in mirth and his mouth wide open, teeth white and gleaming under the light. 

Steve's smile isn't so bad, but it's nowhere near that ass.

* * *

 

As soon as they make it back to their apartment Steve almost pulls the door off the hinges in his excitement to get inside. Sam laughs and pushes him back from the door to carefully unlock it himself, laughing harder when Steve barrels forward and lifts him up in his arms to carry him past the threshold like some blushing bride. 

Steve runs them to the bedroom and Sam laughs the whole time up until he's dropped to his feet, and Steve throws himself onto the bed belly first. Sam quickly snaps out of his giggling though, stepping forward and getting his hands on Steve's boots. He efficiently tugs them off to drop at the foot of the bed, and when his fingers curl in the fabric of Steve's pants he twists over onto his back.

There's a breathless smile on his face, and the joy makes him look younger than Sam's ever seen him. He swallows as he's hit with the knowledge  _he_ did that, and ignores the throb that goes through him in favor of pulling Steve's pants off in one fluid motion that makes the man's eyes light up. 

"Ooh, that was impressive." He says breathlessly, his chest heaving way more than it has any right to seeing as they haven't done anything yet. Steve sees him looking and rolls his eyes, "I'm excited, ok? You got me a little worked up over here."

"Yeah, a  _little_  worked up." Sam mutters, kneeling onto the bed to straddle Steve's waist and run his hands up his uniform top. They pull it over and off his arms, and Sam tosses it uncaringly to the side. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Steve's underwear Sam shuffles back to peel them off. Steve hisses through his teeth when his cock slaps up against his navel, flushed an angry red and twitching against his skin, leaving a smear of precum in its wake. 

"Oh, look at you big boy. That's gotta hurt, huh?" Sam teases, helplessly reaching a hand out to grasp Steve's cock and give one long pull that pushes his foreskin over the head. 

Steve's eyes roll back, and flutter shut as he arches with a jolt of his hips. "Fuck, Sam." He breathes, a shaky smile coming onto his face. 

"That's not the main act, baby, just you wait." Sam whispers, sliding his hand up the length of Steve's creamy pale thigh flushed a carnation pink. "You wanna do this on your back or on your-"

"Front! I like it best on my front." Steve answers eagerly, already twisting into position. "I know you don't like it the best cause you can't see my face, but," Steve winks from over his shoulder, "I promise I'm having a good time." 

Sam's mouth goes dry when Steve pulls his knees under him, the muscles of his back on proud display just like the tiny mounds of his ass as he gets comfortable. Sam steps off the bed with a smirk.

"Well there's a simple way to solve that problem. Hold yourself open until I do." Sam says, hearing Steve's shaky inhale as he puts his arms back, his hands palming each cheek and his fingers pulling them apart. Sam's dick throbs at the sight of his pink hole revealed, and he's not sure if Steve does it on purpose when it winks at him.

He tears himself away to get the mirror before he loses control of himself one or forgets it all together. Sam lifts it off of its hook from where it rests over their dresser, and walks it over to the bed, leaning it against the headboard.  

Steve smiles at him as he walks his way around to the foot of the bed, unbuckling his belt and sliding it out of the loops with a whisper against the leather. He takes his place kneeling behind Steve again, and replaces his mate's hands with his own. Steve shakes his ass in his hands, and Sam strokes along his cleft with his thumbs before leaning down to finally get his lips on his man's glorious little ass. 

Sam kisses the pink ring of muscle at first, and Steve shivers with a moan. Lavishing kisses over his hole, ass, and perineum, Sam keeps at it until all the tension leaves Steve's body with a grunt and he sags bonelessly against the bed. Then he focuses all his attention on Steve's entrance, mouthing at it and pressing his tongue flat against it so the muscle twitches under the pressure. 

"Ah!" Steve shouts at the first touch of his tongue. Sam peeks up to see his eyes are peacefully closed, pink lips swollen and hanging open. Sam flattens his tongue again in another hard lick, and with every single one he can feel Steve's hole tremor and shake until it finally surrenders, and allows him in on its own. A gut-punched moan sings through the room as Sam curls his tongue inside. 

He squeezes Steve's ass in his hands to keep him from jerking, and opens his mouth wide, shaking his head to get as deep as he can between Steve's cheeks. Sam moans as he shoves his tongue in farther, making Steve mewl and twitch in his hands. 

"Oh God, Sam. More, please, please more, give it to me." Steve whispers, his voice hoarse and wrecked already. Then again Steve's ass is as sensitive as they come. 

Sam presses forward, flicking his tongue in and out to press along the wall's of Steve's hole, wriggling it in teasingly. He sucks Steve's skin and spits so his pink hole is wet and glistening. Steve keens and arches his ass back when the spit runs down his balls, bringing Sam's attention to his drooling hard-on. He reaches a hand between Steve's legs to squeeze it, and pauses, feeling the sheet below him and finding cooling cum there. 

"Steve."

"Mmhm?" 

"When did you come? I didn't hear you." 

Steve blushes but there's a smirk on his face when he glances back at him, "You kissed at me until I went boneless, remember? That's when I came. It was pretty subtle, I'm not surprised you missed it."

"Oh, well I guess you're pretty okay right now then." 

"Yeah, I'm floating so for the love of God don't stop." His sentence ends in a groan, and he lets his head fall back down onto his folded arms. Sam ducks back down to continue his fun, mouthing from Steve's balls back to his hole and plunging his tongue in deep. 

He hears Steve's whimper and he pushes his ass back into Sam's mouth as he laps at his hole mercilessly. Sam sucks two fingers into his mouth before sticking them in alongside his tongue to twist and knead. He hooks them into shivering ring of muscle and pries Steve open, dipping his tongue in and out of the now gaping hole. Steve groans low in response and slides his knees further apart to grind his dick into the sheets. Sam follows him down and keeps his tongue steady as Steve does all the work of pressing back on it. 

Sam feels Steve's weight shift so he can get a hand beneath himself, and Sam knows from experience that he's giving his cock two hard squeezes in his hand. He does the rest for him, sliding down to cup Steve's balls and cock before he starts tugging at him. 

"Aaah..." Steve breathes out, his hips starting to shake. Sam uses the hand jerking Steve off push him back against his mouth. He kisses his hole before forcing three fingers in. 

"Ah!  _Fuck!"_  Steve yelps, hissing no doubt at the burn he loves to feel. Sam twists his fingers in until he comes into contact with that miraculous bundle of nerves. A strangled cry leaves Steve's throat, his hips jerking and spasming back to chase the sensation of Sam pressing into his prostate. Sam licks his lips and leans back down to slip his tongue back inside the heat of Steve's ass, his baby releasing another broken moan when he does. 

Sam looks up to see Steve rhythmically squeezing his fist, his face screwed up tight and completely flushed. He's babbling something under his breath, but Sam can't make out the words. He catches the words 'God' and 'please,' 'Sam' and 'fuck'. 

"What are you saying, baby, I can't hear you." 

Steve sucks in a breath and raises his head. "God, Sam,  _please_ just fucking-- make me come please. I want it so bad. My dick's so hard it  _hurts._ " He pants, his voice pitching into a whine on the last word. 

"Don't worry, baby, I got you. I'm going to eat you out one last time. And that's all I'm going to do. You can touch yourself if you want, but you don't have to." 

Steve blows out a breath and rolls his eyes, "You know I won't." And he plants his knees better to prop his hips up, arching his sweat slicked ass into the air. Sam takes his hips in his hands and brings his asshole to his lips one last time. He licks in easily now, the hole wide open and hungry. Sam twists his tongue in, fucking Steve's ass with it until his little mewls turn into one long continuous cry. He fists the sheets, and throws his head back, grinding his hips desperately against Sam's face. 

"Fuck fuck  _fuck."_ Steve whimpers, his voice high and shaky. "I'm there, Sammy, I'm right fucking there. So close, baby, I just need a little more. Just-" 

Steve's breath hitches the minute Sam tightens his grip and lifts his hips, yanking his ass back to hold as close as he can against his mouth. Sam shakes his head as he wriggles his tongue in hard, and Steve's body starts to shake as his orgasm is ripped clean out of him just like the scream that fills their bedroom. 

White cum splatters hard against the sheets and Steve's blood red cock jumps several times with its release. Sam drops his hips to the bed, and gives one forceful slap to Steve's ass which makes him yelp and shudder into another orgasm, his cum dribbling slowly out the head of his spent cock and down the side of his shaft. 

Sam crawls forward to where Steve's collapsed, and though he looks wasted a fire burns again once his eyes are level with Sam's crotch. He pushes himself up on his elbows and unbuttons Sam's jeans, tugging his fly down and shoving his hand into Sam's boxers to dig out his cock. Steve swallows it down whole in one go with a desperate, wanting gasp. And Sam doesn't give himself any grief when he takes a hold of Steve's head, gives one hard thrust of his hips so his cock jams down Steve's throat, and comes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god the smut scene is literally longer than the actual drabble, i'm dying.


	41. Du Rags and Halos -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matching soulmate halos. And Steve steals Sam's wave cap.

Steve crouches as he searches for his sketching pencils, peaking under their bed. He sighs in frustration, and turns to the nightstand, sliding the top drawer open to search for them there. He stops though when he sees Sam's beloved, trusty wave cap. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and Steve can see the glow of his halo brighten as his fingers dance over the soft, black silk of it. 

Steve pulls out slowly, and can't help himself from slipping it over his head and tying it the way he's seen Sam do every night before they go to sleep. His pencils forgotten, and a silly smile on his face, Steve excitedly rushes toward the living room where Sam is watching  _Bring It!_  

"Sam!" He says, his voice an excited whisper. 

Sam turns his head over his shoulder from where he sits on the couch, and at first he looks rather annoyed because Steve knows good and damn well  _Bring It!_ means no talking, but then his eyes glance up to his head, and Sam's double-ringed blue and red halo glows brighter. 

He shakes his head as laughter bubbles up in from his chest. "Steve, baby,  _what_ are you doing?" 

"I found your wave cap while I was looking for my sketching pencils. What's the slang for this again? A du hanky?" Steve asks, shifting his weight as he puts his hands on his hips. 

Steve's smile starts to hurt his cheeks as Sam laughs again. He definitely knows what it's called, he's just trying to get a rise out of his husband at this point.

"Oh my God,  _Steven_. It's called a du rag, okay? And please do me a favor and don't say tha-"

"I'm wearing your du rag, Sam! This is what the kids call relationship goals, right? We're relationship goals! Let's post this on Instagram. We'll be trending in no time. They have that on Instagram, right? Trending?"

Sam sighs, and lowers his head to pinch the bridge of his nose, but his shoulders are still shaking with laughter. "Yes, Steve they have trending hashtags on Instagram. Oh my God, is there a reason why you are being more cringe-worthy tonight than any other night we've had in this marriage? Or is this just a new thing we're trying out for now on?"

"Sam, relax, stop trippin'." 

"We are not going there. It was funny to hear you say that, but we are  _not_ doing this. Please just take that off, your sketching pencils are on the kitchen counter where you put them after distractedly making a sandwich." 

"Oh, great. I was serious about that selfie though, I want to be trending." 

"If we take the damn selfie will you promise to take my damn du rag off, and just watch my favorite competition show with me?" 

"Of course." Steve assures, skipping over to hop over the back of the couch to drop next to his husband. Sam lifts his hips up to dig his phone out of his back pocket, and Steve grins, his halo shining bright as he swings an arm over Sam's shoulders and pulls him close. 

Sam holds up the phone with pursed lips, and Steve grins in a way that shows all his teeth as Sam takes it. They take another where both of them are smiling though Sam's looks reluctant. They post the pictures to their shared account, with the hashtag #the couple that wears du rags together stays together. 

Steve laughs when Sam rolls his eyes, and snatches the du rag off his head finally. 

"I can't believe we just did that, but you did kind of look cute in my wave cap."

"Really?" Steve asks, blushing hotly and leaning into Sam's space happily. He noses along Sam's jaw and neck as Sam shakes his head.

"Yes, really. But those pictures are going to haunt me forever, and I'm going to be the biggest joke come thanksgiving." Sam grunts, no doubt already hearing all the jokes, quips, and digs his family will give him. It will be one hell of a ribbing, and Steve knows it.

"I'm sorry, I just thought it would be funny." Steve says, his face falling as his brows pull together.

Sam turns to him and frowns, giving the inside of his knee a reassuring squeeze. "Don't be, I'm not really mad. And it was -- funny, that is. It was funny." 

Steve smiles shyly at him, blushing hot again and feeling his halo burn bright when Sam cups the back of his neck and leans in to press a kiss to his forehead just below his hairline. 

They lean back to enjoy Sam's favorite show after that, and Steve gets his wish. 

Long before morning their boasting selfies of relationship goals is the most trending hashtag on Instagram, and Steve can't keep the smug smirk off his face all through breakfast.


	42. The Name of Our Creation -- Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The name of one and their soulmate's child is written over their heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm thinking this timeline is somewhere after the first avengers move but before ultron

Steve never forgets the words written over his heart. Never. They're easily the number one thing he thinks about most.  _Celia-Rose Wilson._ _That_ is the name of his firstborn, his daughter, and he knows the day she comes into the world she will take its place. It's the most important thing in his life, and it's never been more true than right now.

Steve groans as he comes to beneath massive rubble. It's huge even for him, and the fight has left his battery nearly empty. For a moment Steve lets his head fall back, and his eyes close and he thinks about death. About letting it all go and stopping his journey right here. Then he feels an itch start to form over his heart, and he remembers why that's not an option. 

He has to bring someone into the world. It's not just him who would be dying. It's  _Celia-Rose Wilson_ , and he can't leave her before he's ever met her. So Steve grunts and starts to wake his limbs, pulling his arms up to place the flat of his palms on the underside of the massive slab of concrete and steel. He gives one push to measure how much strength he'll need, and starts to doubt whether he can lift it at all. 

Steve doesn't dwell on that though, he imagines the same thing he has time and time before. A beautiful little girl his mind changes the appearance of every time. Sometimes she's Hispanic with big dimpled cheeks and curly hair, others she's a black girl with big brown eyes and big hair that doesn't blow in the wind. This time  _that_ is the girl he sees, staring up at him lovingly but with her brows fiercely lowered in a way that seems painfully familiar. And he knows she's rooting for him, she knows he can get out of this because he has to.

Steve starts to strain with every inch of his strength, gritting his teeth hard enough his jaw aches before he squeezes his eyes shut and screams with exertion. The slab starts to scrape along surrounding rubble, budging slowly before Steve finally moves it enough to shimmy his body out from underneath. As he lies there in an all consuming pain Steve finds the only thing broken is his right tibia, still as far as bones go that's pretty bad. He sucks in a breath and holds it as he pulls himself shakily to his feet. 

Steve's hand moves to his right side where he's sure he's roughly bruised more than a few ribs if not all of them. He sighs raggedly and starts to make his way down the pile of rubble he's in. The moon is hanging bright and high in the sky above him so Steve takes it the Avengers finished the job by now, and went home. The last thing he remembers saying over the comms was "don't worry about me. I'll find you by morning." And right now he has no idea where he is. Somewhere in New York undoubtedly, he just has no clue which district. 

Unsnapping his helmet, Steve lifts it off of his head to hold in his hands, sighing in relief when his sweaty hair is finally freed. He wanders the streets for a while, staggering limp the whole time. He passes a nice set of apartments when a light comes on. Steve pauses for whatever reason, maybe for no more than the hope of someone coming out. And he wonders why he wants someone to come out. His leg hurts like a bitch and so does his side, but he's had worse, and Steve is one who prefers to lick his wounds in private, so again, why does he want someone to come out?

The door pulls open, and then the creak of the screen as well. Steve watches in rapt attention as a man steps out onto the terrace, the ideal definition of tall, dark, and handsome even in nothing more than Spongebob sleep pants,  _especially_ in nothing more than Spongebob sleep pants. Steve's mouth waters as he takes in the man's physique -- rounded, muscle under warm brown skin worthy of portraits in chiaroscuro. The place where his child's name is supposed to be is covered up, not everyone wants people to know it. The man raises a lighter to the end of the cigar he has bitten between his teeth, and lights it, tipping his head back and releasing a beautiful plume of smoke past his lips. The helmet falls from Steve's fingers, and the clatter of it against the street snaps the man's head to him.

Steve's mouth drops open and he swallows under the man's hooded eyes as he takes the cigar from his lips, blows out another gust of smoke and asks, "What in the fuck happened to you?"

Steve squints at him then, waves a hand above him to signify the whole battle thing that got him stuck under a giant piece of concrete earlier. "You didn't... _hear_ the huge battle going on today? With witches from another realm? Trying to take over the city?"

The man laughs and crosses his arms, shifting his feet so they're shoulder width apart, "Well," he says, taking another drag of his cigar, "I was in a depression coma the whole day, so  _no,_ I didn't hear that. Is uh," He scratches the trail of hair that leads down past the waistband of his sleep pants and Steve has the ridiculous urge to move his shield in front of his crotch. 

"Is that what fucked you up so bad? Oh, shit wait a minute, you're Captain America aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah, I am."

"Great cosplay, man -- that shield almost looks real." 

Steve pauses and cocks his head at him, "Are you fucking with me?"

The man laughs heartily, and Steve tries not to watch the shudder of muscle over his ribs as he does. He has never felt more aware of his bisexuality in his entire life than staring up at this man  _right now._  

"Yeah, man, I'm fucking with you. I know you're the real deal. No cosplayer would look  _that_ level of fucked up from a comic-con." Smoke billows from his nose as he nods his head back toward his door. "You wanna come in for a bit? Due to my coma I haven't eaten all day, and I was gonna make cookies." 

"Uh...yeah, I guess I could drop in." Steve says, picking his helmet off the ground and walking up Sam's front steps to slide past him and into his apartment. It's a nice place, just as nice on the inside as the outside, and it actually looks well-lived in unlike Steve's place. There's family photos on the walls, and Steve tries to tell himself he's not looking for one with a girlfriend. 

"Playboy, you are about as obvious as an elephant in a dentist's office. I'm on the market, a'ight? Stop staring at my cousin like that." He shouts from the kitchen. 

Steve winces and goes to the bar counter in front of the kitchen. "Sorry. I don't even know your name yet, and I'm trying to feel you out."

"Sam Wilson." He answers, a pipe of smoke leaving the corner of his lips as he sticks out a hand. Steve takes it strongly and squeezes, internally mortified with himself when his thumb strokes the back of Sam's hand on its own volition. 

Sam just smirks at him though so he guesses it's okay. Then a jolt of warm shoots through Steve's hand to dance up his arm and he jerks his hand back quickly. Which makes Sam raise an eyebrow at him. "Uh...sorry, that was, um...weird." 

"That it was. So are you gonna sit on my couch and eat my damn cookies with that star on your chest or do you want somethin' to change into?" 

"Uh, that second option sounds pretty good." 

Sam jogs through the living room to get to a hallway and comes back excitedly throws another pair of sleep pants at him. Steve frowns and pulls them off his head, snorting in surprise at the sight of matching pink Patrick pants. 

"Really?" He asks, and raises an eyebrow, "I don't know if I'm  _worthy._ "

"You are definitely worthy, it's these or nothing. Not that I have a problem with nothing." Sam says, winking. 

In reply Steve lets his actions speak for him as he strips down to his underwear and shirt and steps into the pajama bottoms. Sam grins at him, and claps him hard on the arm, "Alright."

Steve sits at the bar and watches as Sam cooks after his offer of help is turned down hard. "I'm like my momma in the kitchen. I will straight up check you if you get in my way." 

Steve's pleasantly surprised when Sam makes them from scratch, his own family recipe as he calls it, and when he pops them in the oven they lean against the bar and clean the mixing bowl with their fingers, Sam putting out his cigar for later. 

After that they wait for the cookies to bake and fill the time with conversation, getting to know each other better. Their shared service, their shared loss of best friends, the readjustment period they're still enduring. And at the end of it all Steve is so enraptured with this man by the name of Sam Wilson, he doesn't know what to do. He's not even conscious of leaning forward until the oven beeps, and Sam stands up to open the door. He places the baking sheet on top of the stove, and starts sliding cookies onto a big porcelain plate.

Sam smiles at him and walks back to the hallway he dipped in earlier, he doesn't ask Steve if he's coming since the message seems pretty clear. He swallows dryly and wipes his sweaty palms against his thighs before getting up to follow. The bedroom door is open and when Steve sees Sam sitting on the edge of his bed, it's pretty obvious he should close it. 

Steve sits down right next to Sam, close enough that their thighs brush together, reuniting Spongebob and Patrick. Sam wiggles his eyebrows at him and Steve racks his brain for how he made something like that sexy.

"You wanna try something?"

"I do consider myself a man of adventure, so sure." Steve answers, breathless.

Sam pulls his cigar out again along with his silver lighter,  _"This_ _,_ " And the spark catches on the cigar, "is called shotgunning. C'mere." Steve can't see himself ever disobeying a single thing this man says so he does. 

Sam's large hands come up to cup his jaw, the gaze of his hooded eyes attentive and drunk. "Open." He whispers, a pool of want starting in Steve's gut as he lets his lips fall apart. In a trance he watches Sam glide forward, remove the cigar from his lips and breathe smoke into his waiting mouth. Steve doesn't know what to watch, it all seems so much. At first his eyes are on the actual smoke filling his throat and lungs, but then his eyes trail up to the man releasing it and that's even better. 

His hands fly out to grab him hard, one by his shoulder and the other cupping the nape of his neck. Steve pulls him forward and gasps as their lips meet -- hot and smoky, a burn sparking in his chest. 

Sam laughs against him and Steve doesn't care as their lips open so their tongues can meld together in a hot and wet dance. Steve's hand moves to slide flat and hard over the strength of Sam's thigh, pulling his leg over his lap by his hip. 

They part after that, Sam breathless, but blissful. Steve can't imagine he looks any different, and the burning of his chest still hasn't stopped. Steve scowls and takes his hands off of Sam's hips to lift his shirt up. 

And there the name is glowing a bright gold. Sam gasps, and Steve looks up at him sharply. "What?" He asks.

"That's...that's my name." And Sam peels the cover off his chest to show  _Celia-Rose Wilson_ in shimmering gold. "Hot damn. Steve Rogers, household white boy, is my soulmate." 

"Yeah. Wow. This just might be the best day of my life." Steve whispers.

"For now, until she's born." Sam corrects, poking the center of Steve's bare chest with a love drunken smile. 

"She's gonna be the world to us." 

"Of course." Sam breathes, grinning sharply before tipping forward and pushing Steve down to the bed. Steve's breathless as he looks up at Sam's ceiling, feeling the weight of Sam's body while also experiencing the most weightless relief. 

For once in his life, Steve has it all. 


	43. Seeing His Dreams -- Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You see your soulmate's dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long but i just lost inspiration for a while. plus i once wrote something up here on Ao3 like I usually do, and i got really far, but closed out of the tab accidentally and lost everything. after that i was just fucking done lol. i don't know if i'll get back on track or not, but here's this.

Sam guesses he should have put together who his soulmate was from the very beginning when Peggy Carter and the Howling Commandos made an appearance in the first dream his soulmate had. Sure, it could have been anyone who  _really_ loved the Howling Commandos and Peggy Carter, but the dream was too specific for that. They were hanging out in a smoke clouded room, cracking jokes and ribbing each other fondly. Sam woke up still feeling his soulmate's happiness, his contentment. 

After that the dreams varied. Sometimes Sam was getting beat up in an alley by two guys he had to strain to look up at. A lot of the dreams were about Peggy Carter, and that should have really clued Sam in on just who his soulmate was, dreaming about Peggy so much. But he wasn't completely, 100% without a doubt certain until the nightmares came. Until he was frozen under miles of ice, a scream trapped in his throat, or when he was seeing his plane crash into New York and blowing the state off the map.  

Then Sam Wilson was pretty sure he was peeping in on none other than the dreams of Steve Rogers. And on the nights he woke up gasping for air after being encased in ice, he was glad Steve didn't have to relive that sensation all alone. It's like when Sam has a bad dream of Riley falling out the sky, wakes up, and doesn't feel as alone. He can  _feel_ someone else taking the weight of it. 

The only problem is Sam has no idea how he's supposed to get in contact with a national treasure who just became alive again not even two years ago. But as it turns out he doesn't have to worry long, because Steve finds him.

 

Sam gets lapped two times before he puts it together, before he realizes the blonde man with the  _ridiculous_ posture is Captain America himself. He can hear the footfalls coming, and he turns himself in preparation, but even he's not entirely sure what his plan is just yet. 

Somehow he times it just right, throwing himself over to his left and latching his arms around the man's neck like a complete. Idiot. Because of course Steve Rogers raises his arms and catches him effortlessly, and doesn't even stop running. 

It takes Sam a minute to realize he's being carried bridal style at a full sprint by Captain America. What the fuck was he thinking. 

He looks up at an equally confused Steve, and opens his mouth to explain. "Uh...I see your dreams, man. That's...that's what I was going to tell you. I didn't know you would-"

"Catch you?"

"Yeah." Sam breathes, stunned by the wind rushing past his ears. "Why- _why_ did you catch me again?"

Steve shakes his head and shrugs, an embarrassed blush coming over his cheeks and flooding his neck, "Reflex I guess."

"Why are you still running?" Sam laughs. 

A crooked smile comes over Steve's lips, and he shrugs again, "You make me nervous. I guess I thought I should run from it." 

Steve footfalls start to slow after that until he can jog them both to a stop. Sam nods his head in thanks and moves to get out of the man's arms that don't budge a goddamn inch. He struggles for a little bit with Steve just fucking watching him. 

Sam clears his throat and raises his eyebrow, "Um, you wanna put me down now?"

Steve stares at him blankly for one more beat before snapping out of it, "Oh, yeah, sorry." He drops his arms and Sam laughs as his feet hit the track. 

"So, Sam Wilson, your soulmate, at your service."

"Nice to meet you." Steve says, accepting the hand Sam offers. They shake, but it feels kind of pointless with how close they just were. Sam pulls his hand back and grins at the man. He can tell Steve wants to say something, so he waits.

A smirk dawns on the man's face and Sam braces himself. "I liked having you in my arms, think we can do it again some time?" 

Sam laughs at how proud of himself Steve looks, and shakes his head, "Is that how it is?"

Those blue eyes give him a smooth one over, "That's how it is."


	44. Love Potions -- Sam's POV

Sam sighs and pulls his dreads back into a ponytail, rubbing his hands together as he stands in front of the large cauldron his family has been using for generations. He rolls up his sleeve to look at the ingredients printed on his forearm, checking once again that he has everything. Once Sam's sure he has everything he throws in the first ingredient -- an American flag strangely enough. It bubbles and melts at the pot's bottom and Sam adds the next ingredient, cracking the entire ice tray so each cube falls out. The froth bubbles and steams as Sam quickly adds the rest: a lock of his hair, his blood, the shirt off his back (selflessness), and a tear. 

Sam steps back as the cauldron begins to rattle and quake against the floor before there's a blinding blue light and a rush of air. Sam blinks hard as the light fades and when he looks up sure enough there's a man in his momma's basement. 

He looks understandably bewildered until his eyes fall on the cauldron behind him. His blue eyes clear up when they finally turn to lock on Sam's. His mouth falls open and he runs a hand through his blonde hair, an actual blush dusting over his cheeks.

"So. Did you uh,  _summon_ me?" He asks, his voice deep but nervous. 

Sam walks out of the shadows until they're only a foot or so apart. 

"Yeah, I did. I guess we're soulmates."

"Are you sure you did it right?" The man asks, his expression dubious with a raised eyebrow.

Sam steps back, offended. The man sees it on his face and grimaces.

"No, no, that's not what I mean. I mean, just, you're kind of beautiful and I just wanted to know if you got it right cause I feel like you should've gotten someone I don't know... _better_ than me."

Sam snorts, "I don't know what you're talking about because as far as looks go I'd say we're pretty evenly matched." 

"Yeah, but..." The man leans forward a bit and squints his blue eyes at him, "Do- do you have  _dreads?"_

In answer Sam just takes his hair down, sliding his hair tie back onto his wrist. The man throws a hand up and rolls his eyes.

"Oh wow, yeah, no you're out of my league. How the  _fuck_ \- no, maybe you should run through the potion again."

"Or I could go outside and you could try to summon  _me_ this time." Sam says, shrugging.

The man nods, and Sam makes his way to the stairs. "Oh, and I'm Sam by the way."

"Oh, uh, Steve."

Sam walks through the empty house to stand in the front yard, idly watching the birds fly past in the sky and chirp in the trees. A few minutes go by before Sam feels himself being sucked into some whirpool, and then he's standing in his basement once again, smirking at a dumbfounded Steve. 

"So like I said, we're soulmates." 

"I-I guess. Steve Rogers."

"Sam Wilson." And they shake hands, a skitter of electricity twisting its way up Sam's arm at the contact. 

"I'm sorry I doubted you."

"No worries. You wanna hang out some? We can watch TV or something."

"Sure. That sounds good."

Steve follows Sam up the stairs to the living room and the two sit on the couch. Sam smiles when Steve sits close enough their sides touch. They settle in to watch reruns of Law & Order: SVU but soon it's made clear to Sam that Steve's hardly paying attention.

"Can, can I touch your hair?"

"Sure."

And Sam pulls his legs up, laying his head in Steve's lap, smirking to himself when he hears the man gasp his surprise. But then a hand is softly digging its fingers into his dreads. Sam gives a soft sigh and before he falls asleep he hears Steve smile.


End file.
